INT. KITCHEN. NIGHT. T.C. sitting at the table with DAUGHTER and WIFE wasted on hootch while helping with daughter's homework.
Daughter: Daddy.
T.C.: You call me duddy, you hear?
Wife: That's enough, T.C. Go ahead and ask your father a question, dear.
Daughter: What things do you bring on camping trip?
Wife: Oh. That's hard.
T.C.: Well, you'll need a scalping knife so you can sell the fur to some Injuns who still think it's 1672. You can screw them hard. Like five bucks a pelt or something. Stupid otters.
Daughter: What does he mean, mommy?
Wife: T.C.! You'll need a tent. A flashlight...
T.C. (interrupts): And a sawed-off shot gun to blow some game's head off. For fun.
Wife: This is completely inappropriate!
T.C.: What? You're the one that said I don't help enough with her homework!
Wife: I hadn't realized just how deep the insanity ran.
T.C.: Don't forget a tranquilizer gun if anything to look like you know what you're doing.
Wife: Where are those pills?
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