So, after my 17 hour marathon rest I was moving stuff into the attic when my  brother came over.  He asked me about splitting a Father’s Day gift with him, I asked the cost, he told me and I told him where my wallet was to get the cash.  Later that day my dad came back and gave me a big hug thanking me for the Father’s Day gift.  Trying not to make it obvious that I had no idea what he got and knowing my brother’s penchant for firearms-as-gift I asked “What caliber is it?” He replied “.357 and that he’d “keep it under his pillow”.  Scanning over my knowledge of killings in the home and the strength of my father’s prescription glasses I realized Ryan had gotten my dad the greatest gift of all: Fratricide.

Editor’s Note: The technical term for killing one’s son would be filicide but it both sounds worse than fratricide and is a bit more remote from common parlance.  I hope it sufficiently conveyed the sense of terror at my father being armed while in a hynogogic state.