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.”


“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.)