Louis C.K.: Hilarious Page #8

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I take the seven-year-old,

And i bring her outside,

And she's standing barefoot

In her pajamas.

And it's dusk,

And it's ponies,

And she's like--

[Gasps]

And i'm like,

"I'm the best f***ing father.

"I'm the best father.

Yeah!

"Yeah!

Look at that sh*t!

That's right!

I gave that to you!"

And she starts walking out

Towards the ponies.

She's like,

"Can i go near them?

I'm like, "yeah."

I'm an idiot.

I'm like, "yeah, totally.

"Go on out there, honey.

"You're only outnumbered

"What could possibly happen

In a sea of wild ponies?"

And she walks out,

And there's this one,

Beautiful, speckled pony,

And as she's

Walking towards it,

I'm an a**hole,

'Cause i don't read--

It's going like--

[Snorts]

It's totally going,

"Dude, [snorts] no.

"Not--i'm not one of--

F*** it.

"Get her out. Get her out.

"I'm a--dude,

I'm a f***ing Italian wild pony.

Get her out of here."

Can i go, daddy?

I'm like, "yes, totally.

Go up to the pony."

She walks up to the pony,

And she turns to me and says,

"He's beautiful."

And as she's saying that,

The pony bites her

On the f***ing leg.

And she screams.

It didn't break the skin,

But it was an awful bruise.

And i grab her

And i run inside.

And she says, "why, daddy?

Why did the pony bite me?"

And i said, "i don't know."

And she said,

"Do ponies bite a lot?"

And i'm like, "well, yeah,"

'Cause i don't want her to think

That she's so horrible

That the first pony ever

Bit her.

I go, "yeah, honey,

Ponies bite,"

And she goes, "well,

Why did you let me near it?"

She's like, "dude,

Make a f***ing effort."

And then we're in the house,

And she says--

This is how great this kid is.

She calms down,

And she goes,

"I want to look up

About ponies biting."

Like, that's how she thinks.

Something upsets her,

She wants to look it up

And learn about it.

She says, "i want to find out

Why they bite

And what people say about it."

So we go and we do look up

About ponies,

And it turns

Out they're a**holes.

They bite all the time.

And there's all these websites

That talk about what to do

When your pony bites,

And it's like everything else

On the internet.

It's just fighting.

Just people angry at each other.

The first guy says,

"You got to punch the pony

Right in the face."

Just punch it

Right in the face.

Then the next person says,

"You're a terrible person.

You should have your ponies

Taken away from you."

The next person

Was my favorite.

They go, "people who don't punch

Their ponies make me sick."

So we really are

A divided nation.

The three-year-old

Is a different story.

The three-year-old,

Here's her deal.

She's a three-year-old.

That's really it.

She's three years old.

The other day

I got in a fight with her.

Whose fault is that?

I'm 41,

And she's 3.

It's always your fault

With a three-year-old.

Always.

Because they are

Just what they are.

They can't help it.

Just tape the windows.

It's a f***ing hurricane.

Just wait.

Anytime you're like this

With a three-year-old--

"Don't you under--"

You're an idiot.

That's you being an idiot.

"Don't you understand?"

"No, i don't, dad.

I haven't developed enough.

You just have to wait."

But it was partly her fault,

'Cause she wore me down.

Let me tell you

What happened.

It was this horrible,

Horrible day.

It started the night before,

'Cause she woke me up all night.

Just woke me up

Every f***ing--

Just ten minutes.

Just woke me up--

Just--

"Dad."

With nothing.

That's the worst part.

"Daddy!"

"Wha--what? What is it?"

"Um..."

"Oh, f*** you.

You got nothing.

You bullshitter, you."

So now it's the next morning,

I'm making breakfast,

And i'm gone.

I'm insane.

I drank too much coffee

To overcompensate,

And i'm like--

I keep having these moments

Where it's like--

And there's nothing there.

Just nothing.

"Uh, okay. Jesus."

I'm making french toast.

She's over there

Sitting in her little chair,

Just f***ing anger.

Just pure--she's

A little ball of anger.

She's like,

"I want french toast!"

I'm like, "yeah, that's

What i'm making, honey.

I'm making french toast."

I bring it over.

"Here."

"Give me syrup!"

"Yes. of course.

I'll give you syrup.

I always do.

I love you very much."

"Cut it for me!"

"I'm happy to cut it for you.

"You're not asking nicely,

But it's okay.

"I'll cut it for you,

Baby.

I love you very much."

Then she's looking

At her plate,

And she's literally going--

[Breathing heavily]

'Cause she needs to be--

Want something.

You know, she didn't--

There's nothing logical

For her to want,

So her brain has to go

Somewhere crazy.

So she's looking

At her plate.

She goes, "i don't know

Which piece to eat!"

And i'm still not engaging.

I'm like,

"Oh, i know, honey.

"That's hard.

That's really hard.

"I'll just make a list of pros

And cons for every piece,

And i'll help you

With it later."

And i look at her,

And she's walking towards me now

With the plate just vertical,

With syrup f***ing

Going on the floor.

She's like,

"Help me!

You're not helping!"

And i'm standing there,

Like, looking at her,

And i love her,

And i'm proud of her in a way,

'Cause i know she'll never

Want for anything.

She'll beat the sh*t

Out of people.

She's...

She'll kill people for meat

After the apocalypse.

She'll be one of those.

And then later i'm trying

To get them dressed for school,

And now the clock's ticking,

And i'm like, "uh..."

And i'm trying to put

A sweater on her,

And it's impossible.

The sweater has buttons

That just don't exist.

And i'm f***ing--

My fat fingers,

And they're full of sweat.

And i have just tears

Going down my cheeks.

Crazy tears.

I'm not crying.

I'm, like,

Smiling with tears.

Copious--

"I can't--

I can't put on the sweater.

"I can't put on the sweater.

I can't.

I really can't do it."

And she's going like this.

So i give her a fig newton

Just to immobilize her,

Just to stop it.

'Cause she loves fig newtons.

I go, "here, honey.

Have a fig newton."

She goes, "they're not

Called fig newtons.

They're called pig newtons."

And i go,

"No, they're not.

They're called fig newtons."

And right away in my head

I'm like, "what are you doing?

"Why?

What is to be gained?

What do you care?"

Just--"yeah, pig newtons.

Fine. Go ahead.

"Good luck to you.

Go through life.

"See what kind of job

You can hold down

"With sh*t like that

Clanging around in your head.

I don't care.

I'll be dead."

But for some reason

I engaged.

"No, honey,

They're called fig newtons."

She goes,

"No. You don't know.

You don't know.

They're called pig newtons."

And i just--i feel this rage

Building inside.

Just...

Because it's not

That she's wrong.

She's three.

She's entitled to be wrong.

But it's the f***ing arrogance

of this kid.

No humility.

No decent sense

of self-doubt.

She's not going like, "dad,

I think those are pig newtons.

Are you sure

That you have it right?"

She's not saying that.

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