Three score and ten

I just got off the phone with my father.

He turned 70 last Friday, and was waxing poetic about the things he'd achieved in his life. He said he hoped for a few more years, as long as he could take care of himself.

I told him to fuck the bible, and Abraham Lincoln. I need at least 20, if not 30 more years with my dad. I'm not ready.

Then we talked for a bit more; poor dad, it must suck to talk to your daughter, who is exactly like your father (ooh damage; can we get a hell, yeah!).

Happy belated birthday, Dad. I'll talk to you any time you want. It's even better when Mom isn't around.