"Son," Vince's dad shook his head. "You don't eat enough. You need to be eating like a REAL man. You're a hockey player, son! You're gonna get ground up and turned into mulch by those other boys!"
"I'm just not hungry," Vince shrugged.
"Yeah?" Vince's dad placed one hand over Vince's belly and one in the small of his back and squeezed. "I can feel your spine, kid! You anorexic?"
"I'm nauseous," Vince muttered sarcastically.
"What we need to do," Vince's dad said, rubbing his son's stomach back and forth, "is stretch this little belly out, and fill it up proper, like they did on that movie where the guy ate 50 eggs--"
"I am NOT eating 50 eggs," Vince said, glaring. "Can ya stop SQUISHIN' me??"
"Oh, sorry... does that hurt?"
"It's just WEIRD."
"Well, ex-CUSE me, if a father can't be affectionate towards his only boy, HMPH!" His dad stomped off, shaking his head and muttering. Vince snickered. He knew his father wasn't mad or anything, he was just joking. At least, about the affection.
Vince ran his fingers through his hair, thinking hard.
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