Breaking Bad, The Cold Edition.
So, I have a cold and feel rather miserable. My dad comes home and asks how I’m doing.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Sudafed. Please.”
“OK…”
“But not any kind of Sudafed. I want the kind that requires you give them your license because they’re afraid you’re going to make meth with it.”
(My dad pauses, stands there for a minute, and then walks away.)