a boy brings a hand written essay to his
father, for his
father to look over and help him correct it. The
father looks at it and says:
father: son, i am sorry, I can’t read your bloody (used as an expletive here) handwriting. Who in the world taught you to write in turkey-chicken scrawl anyways?. Please go make sense of your own writing, re-type it for me on a computer, print it and bring it back to me, and then I’ll help you.
Son: okie dokey, no problem.