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[Australia and his drone son (Butters) are both standing in their front yard a short distance away from each other. Australia has a football in his hands and is glaring at it.]
Dad, you're holding it wrong.
Shut up, no fake-brainwashed-son of mine is going to not know how to kick a fucking footy properly. [Smoothly handballs it over to Butters- or it would be smooth if it was a proper football, gdit- where it hits the drone boy on the head and knocks him over.] Maybe it is a bit too heavy...
Dad, I need to do my homework!
You can do your homework once you've shown me you can do a proper handball, alright? Learn some priorities.
But, Dad-
No arguing, dipshit, now get up and pick up the ball.
Can't we play baseball-
Over my dead body.
[Come by and point out he's fighting a losing battle?]
Dad, you're holding it wrong.
Shut up, no fake-brainwashed-son of mine is going to not know how to kick a fucking footy properly. [Smoothly handballs it over to Butters- or it would be smooth if it was a proper football, gdit- where it hits the drone boy on the head and knocks him over.] Maybe it is a bit too heavy...
Dad, I need to do my homework!
You can do your homework once you've shown me you can do a proper handball, alright? Learn some priorities.
But, Dad-
No arguing, dipshit, now get up and pick up the ball.
Can't we play baseball-
Over my dead body.
[Come by and point out he's fighting a losing battle?]