Ay gevalt.

51.
I got a 51 on my math test.
"Dad," I tell my father, "I got a 51."
"That's not good," he says into his cell phone, "Not okay with me, home skillet."
"Are you talking to me, or ... ?" I trail off.
"Gots to gos. The spawn is talking to me," he laughs, "Yeah, the one with the acne."
"Who was that?"
"Yeah, the acne's gotten worse. She looks more like a prebuscent teen every day - "
"DAD."
"Yeah, but she's 15. Oh man, she's getting angry. Angry spawn."
"DAD."
"Gotta go. I'm out. This spawn throws things."
"WHO WAS THAT?" I ask angrily.
"The bacon to my egg. The yo to my homie. The peanut to my butter. The - "
"Mom?"
"Nah. My secretary. What's this I hear about a 31?"
"51," I cringe, "on my math test."
"Word? Am I supposed to, like, care? Or not?" he turns to the computer, where he's making himself a pair of kicks.
"Well," I explain, "This is the part where you tell me to try harder."
"Try harder."
"And study more."
"Study more."
"Dad, I'm getting the drift you don't care."
"Of course I care! Blue or yellow?"
"Dad! This is serious! This is trig!"
"WORD UP? TRIG?" his whole face brightens up, "CONGRATS, PAULA. YO MAD GOOD JOB. I GOT A 32 ON MY FIRST TRIG TEST."
"Dad, I think you don't qualify as a good example ... "
"I PAID SOME NERD TO TAKE IT FOR ME. BUT HE BACKED OUT. So I finished the test in 10 minutes and went to fool around with your mother in an empty -"
"DAD. OH MY GOD. Too much information. Can you help me?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. 4 more dollars?" He looks for his monogrammed 50 cent wallet.
"No, Dad. Like, help me. With the math."
His whole face looks crushed. "But .. I was making myself a pair of kicks .. "
He grabs the test from my hands and his eyes glaze over.
"Are you sure you can't pay off someone? Or something? Or .. God, Paula. Just looking at all this math makes me sick."
"Listen, father. I am starting to doubt that degree you have framed in the bathroom. You seem to have paid your way out of EVERYTHING."
"Well yeah. I mean, after you get kicked out of college, you have to start trying."
"KICKED OUT OF COLLEGE?"
"Yeah," he looks away sheepishly, "Your mother said never to mention that to you guys."
"Our mother also said she loves you. Obviously the woman can't be held responsible for her actions. Tell me more."
"Well, it was just a small accident..."
"How small?"
"Well, it was college. I had a bit too much beer .. and next thing you know, I was hitting send on a 7 page email to my teacher outlining how much I hated her."
"7 PAGES?"
"Yeah," my dad said proudly, "I've never put so much effort into a paper in my life."
"Dad. You kind of fail."
"Well, that's not why I got kicked out."
"It's ... Not?"
"Well .." he scratched his neck, "This might have been my third offense."
"THIRD?"
"I got caught fooling around with your mother. Twice. And came to class drunk. Thrice."
I am speechless.
"DON'T TELL YOUR MOTHER ANY OF THIS."
How can I? Speechless.
He chuckled, "Yep. Good memories."
My father was a juvenile deliquent.
"Damn," Dad says, getting back to reality, "Your mother is going to flip when she sees that 51."
"This is true," I say, edging out of the room, "But I'll soften her up with your college stories first."
"YOU SPAWN!"