Daddy's Home Page #11

Yeah, you're right, Brad. A real dad

wouldn't give up on his kids so easy.

(DOOR CLOSING)

Griff!

Wait!

He's still in the room, Brad.

Oh, hey.

Sorry. I thought you stormed out.

What you said sounded like a storm-out,

and then I heard the door close.

I just thought that sh*t

was getting kind of personal,

so it'd be good to close the door.

So extremely thoughtful. Thank you. Yeah.

And just so you know where my head was at,

I was going to chase you

down the hallway. Right?

You'd hear my footsteps and you're like,

"Is someone after... What's going on?"

Boom! It's me, and I'm like, "Griff, hey!

"You were right."

Holy sh*t! That would be so uplifting.

Can we do that?

Griff, can you storm out, and Brad,

you go after him?

I don't really want any part of that.

That sounds like pure nonsense to me.

I don't want... I'd rather not.

We could just try it, you know?

No, that sounds forced and weird to try to

recreate something. Not even recreate.

It would be creating. It didn't happen.

It's over-discussed at this point.

Shouldn't you go see your kid?

- Yeah. Yeah.

- All right.

You guys go. Brad, can I come?

No.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Daddy's not coming, is he?

Oh, honey, he'll be here. He promised.

I see cupcakes over there.

I think you should go eat some. Go on.

Go eat a lot of sugar.

(VIBRATING)

Dusty.

- Nope.

- Come on, Dusty.

Where are you going?

I'd pay a billion dollars

to take her to that dance.

- You're just gonna leave?

- You take her then.

I can't take her. Okay?

I'm not welcome after I said

I was gonna put a spite baby

in her mother.

- I guess that's out, then.

- Yeah, that is out.

- So it's gotta be you.

- (SIGHS)

I'm sorry, Brad,

I just can't do it, all right?

What do you mean, you can't do it?

I can't stay inside the cones.

Look, Dusty, the cones are

there for everyone's safety.

- It's not about the cones.

- You just said it was.

The cones are a metaphor, Brad.

I'm not the domestic type, okay?

Dusty, come on.

What are you talking about?

You're organized, you're handy.

You make the best cinnamon rolls

I have ever tasted.

Those were Cinnabons, Brad. Come on.

You can't make rolls like that

in a conventional oven.

I knew it! I knew it.

I knew it from the beginning!

So you've been telling

some tall tales, huh?

- All that Special Ops stuff.

- No, just the Cinnabons!

Why would you lie about Cinnabons?

'Cause I wanted to win. All right?

I wanted to prove that

I was a good dad, too, but I'm not.

Okay? Are you happy?

Is that what you want to hear?

All the noise and the mess

and all the choices.

You do one thing wrong,

you can screw them up for life.

- Do you realize that?

- Yeah.

Dads have to make a lot of choices, okay?

And we blow most of them.

Yeah, and the other parents.

That kid, Eli. I was over there

for a play date. You know about this?

You can't just ride your bike

over to a friend's house,

to play Hot Wheels anymore,

now you got to make some kind of date?

- I know, it's a shame.

- Well, I'm over there,

and the kid's dad keeps

asking me if Dylan's gonna be

in the gifted program with Eli.

Like Dylan isn't as smart as

his little ball-scratcher kid.

I wanted to murder that smug prick.

Dusty, look, I hate that guy, too, okay?

But his son is Dylan's best friend,

so you suck it up.

(STUTTERING) I mean, that's most of

what dads do, is take sh*t.

I mean, that's what we do.

I can't do it, Brad.

I can't take sh*t like you do.

You take sh*t better than

anyone I've ever met,

and I mean that as a compliment

from the bottom of my heart.

- Thank you.

- But I'm sorry, Brad. I can't.

I can't do it, man.

You made a promise to Megan,

and you're gonna keep it.

Ow!

(GROANING)

Did you just punch me in the face, Brad?

Ow, yes.

Knowing full well I got no choice

but to bust you up now?

I really wish you wouldn't.

If I did, you'd take that beatdown

for those kids, wouldn't you?

Yeah. Yeah, I would.

- Come on.

- Good luck, Dusty.

What? No, no, you gotta come.

It's just... I can't see Sara

after what I said.

Sara loves you, Brad. All right?

I know just what to say to her.

You just stand there

and look lost without her.

- I am lost without her.

- Well, that's good. Then let's go.

- But I look terrible.

- Yeah, you do. Come here.

- What are you doing?

- I'm fixing you up, man.

Dusty, get your hands out of my pants.

Calm down. Think I want to

touch your little dinky?

I'm trying to fix you up.

All right. Let me see.

Wow. I look great.

Here you go.

- That's incredible.

- Come on.

(HIP-HOP MUSIC PLAYING)

SARA:
Hey, pumpkin.

Daddy wanted to be here,

I know he did. He just gets...

Whoa, whoa, whoa... Uh-oh.

She's doing her arms-folded thing.

You said she'd smile.

Maybe even start a slow clap.

Don't worry, I got this. Okay? Come on.

Oh, hey, look, it's the guy that

stranded his kids at school.

And look who he's with.

Did you get anybody pregnant

on your way over here, Brad?

No, I didn't.

- DUSTY:
Sara, listen...

- No!

- Sara, please.

- No. I am not going to listen to you.

You know what? Your daughter's been

sitting there for two hours, heartbroken.

Sara, I am so sorry...

Oh, just, please. Will one of you idiots

just ask your daughter to dance?

- Really?

- SARA:
Yes.

Neither one of you deserves her, but yes.

- Go ahead, Dusty.

- No, you take the first one.

You've earned it more than I have.

Dusty, please, she's your daughter.

What the hell did I miss?

I'll tell you what. I'll vouch for you

to the kids and I'll take the first dance.

I'll say my good-byes,

and then I'll get out of your hair.

Wait, wait. When you say

"get out of your hair,"

you mean leave, like leave-leave? Tonight?

Daddy! Brad! The fourth graders are here.

They're picking on Dylan again.

That's it.

Those little shitheads are dead.

Where are they?

DUSTY:
Those are the fourth graders?

- They're girls.

- Uh-huh. They're so mean.

Why are you even here at

the Daddy-Daughter Dance?

Are you a daughter? Are you a girl?

Are you too scared to take me on

without your little friends?

- Oh, no, he's calling out the big one.

- Oh-oh.

Oh, no, no, no.

Come on!

Dylan!

- (ALL GASP)

- Yes!

- Dylan, what are you doing?

- Did you see? Did you see?

I punched her in the face,

just like you taught me.

- What?

- And then I kicked her right in the nuts.

You like that, b*tch? Huh?

- No, no, no!

- You want some more, b*tch?

Sweetheart, what happened?

What's going on here?

He punched me in the face.

Then he kicked me in the swimsuit area.

Then he called me the "B" word.

Who did, him?

He did. I saw it.

He said they taught him to hit girls.

No, no. We thought

your daughter was a boy.

- What?

- No, what he means is that

Dylan told us that a fourth grader

was picking on him,

but he didn't tell us it was a girl.

Yeah, and if you had, we'd have told you

it's never okay to hit a girl.

And that she's probably only bugging you

because she likes you, buddy.

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