I Feel Bad

I always know what my mom is thinking,

because she tells me.

Do you want me to call FEMA to help with this disaster

- you call a living room? - Okay.

But my dad is a mystery to me.

No matter what you ask, he always answers

in short, vague phrases. He's like a Magic 8-Ball.

- Hey, Dad, how you feeling? - Okie dokie.

How's retirement treating you?

- Great. - Quick question.

Do you believe in life after death?

Ask again later.

Our dynamic has worked just fine for 40-somethin' years, until now.

See, Dad's been acting kind of strange lately,

and because he's so closed-mouthed,

I have no way of finding out why.

Hey, honey, do you think something's wrong with my dad?

Yes, he's married to the Mother of Dragons.

No, I just mean that he's been kind of spacey lately,

and he's never dressed like that before.

What's with that shirt? And those socks?

You know, your mom did mention that he forgot to

show up for a dinner with their friends last night,

Maybe he was rummaging around in the attic,

and found a parrot costume.

Okay, he just bit into an orange

like it's an apple. I am officially freaking out.

- Maybe that's an Indian thing. - What? It's not, I'm Indian.

Have you ever seen me do that before?

Sweetie, you're not Indian Indian.

- You weren't born in India. - Okay.

You should be very glad that our family

- does not have an HR person. - Sweetie, I don't mean to

alarm you, but your dad is getting older,

and sometimes, when people get older,

they get more eccentric. My Aunt Muriel?

With the cowboy hat?

The woman's never been on a horse.

David's right. My dad is getting older,

and I don't even really know him.

I wish I could connect with him

before I'm connecting him to life support.

_

So what did you get up to this weekend, Griff?

Video games, Grandma's funeral.

Oh, damn.

- What'd you play? - It's a new game.

- It's in beta. - Wait, that's all you're

gonna say about your grandmother's funeral?

Well, what do you want to know?

- I covered all the bases. - Why don't men open up?

First of all, we don't have as many holes as you, but...

Oh, God, somebody else answer.

I got this. So the image of the strong,

silent male is a fallacy created by Western civilization

to justify the distance of the remote father-god.

That holes theory is starting to sound pretty good now, huh?

It's just... My dad's getting older,

and he's just not acting like himself lately.

Maybe I've just missed the chance to really know him.

- What's he been doing? - Dressing fancy for no reason.

Oh, and the other day, he had plans with my mom, and just never showed up.

Part of me is worried. I mean, maybe these

- are the first signs of... - Banging someone else?

What? Ew, no.

I have to agree with Griff. When my father cheated,

he started wearing fancy clothes.

I thought we were going to a play.

It turns out the real drama was inside the house.

Okay, guys, stop. He's not having an affair.

He's not the kind of man that would do that.

Are you sure? I mean, you just said you don't really know him.

This is getting really heavy. I got to go anyways.

Gotta scatter Granny's ashes. Later, skaters.

- All right, have fun. - Oh. Kay...

Are the guys right? Is my dad capable of stepping out on my mom?

Hello, Mr. Tongs.

Madame Corkscrew, we meet at last.

Yeah, this guy is not having sex with anybody.

Wait, he's drinking wine?

My dad only drinks wine

when he's trying to impress white people.

Oh, fruity, spicy.

And what a body, hm?

David, David, come here.

Do you think that my dad's acting weird because he's having an affair?

Come on. What would make you say that?

- Yeah. - Okay, you know what,

let's not jump to any conclusions.

This is a man who left halfway through a haircut

because a shampoo lady's boob grazed his head.

You're right.

He's never done a questionable thing in his life.

I should trust him.

But I won't, 'cause maybe he got a taste of head boob,

and he's hungry for more.

Is he wearing new Hush Puppies?

Oh, his ass is up to something.

Damn it.

Okay, okay, okay, I know what this looks like, but...

Wait, why am I defending myself?

- You're spying on my dad, too! - I'm not spying on your dad.

I am spying on you 'cause I could tell when I was said

"don't do anything," your mouth was saying "okay,"

but your eyes were saying " you."

Okay, all right, just get in before you blow our cover.

- Oh, we're going undercover? - Yes.

I like it. I can do that.

Wait, what is he doing? Is he buying flowers?

- Yeah. - My dad doesn't buy flowers.

He steals them from neighbors' yards.

I'm not getting a good read. Give me the binoculars.

I don't have binoculars.

What? You call yourself a detective?

No, I didn't call myself a detective.

It sounds like you're calling yourself a detective.

Yes, we are partner detectives.

The sexual tension is crazy.

I mean, this could spin into role-play later, right?

No, David, we're not going to be sexy detectives.

Now, listen. Get out of the car,

head to the gyro stand so we can keep eyes on the perp.

That cop talk is hot.

- No, we got to go. - Okay.

But let's circle back to this.

Yeah.

Come on, come on.

He just spent 60 bucks on roses.

Okay, maybe they're for my mom.

No way, man. Those are mistress roses.

Wife roses cost five bucks from Trader Joe's.

Okay, listen. This'll be easy to figure out.

If my mom gets those flowers later, everything's good.

And if she doesn't, then she'll be destroyed

and probably move in with us forever.

David and I had carefully orchestrated

the most subtle way to broach the topic of the flowers.

So, Maya, get any flowers lately or...?

That was not it. God, he sucks at this.

No, thank God.

Flowers are for bees and dead people.

It's true, she says flowers are just plants

- that are showing off. - And there's our answer.

The flowers weren't for my mom.

This sweet woman is being cheated on,

and so late in life.

Hey, Mommy? You doing okay?

Is there anything I can do for you?

Do you have any Pellegrino

to wash down your chalky meatloaf?

- No. - Then why you bothering me?

Maya, let me see if I can find you something fizzy, okay?

Emet, could you give me a little help in the kitchen?

Oh, let's get something to drink.

- Is there any juice in here? - Nope, nothing.

- Okay. - We have to do something.

Yes, we do. We have to stop meddling right now.

- What? - It is... it is wrong.

It is their marriage.

It is their problem to work out.

You got to promise me you're not gonna follow him anymore.

I mean, who knows?

Maybe this is okay with your mom.

Maybe they have an open relationship.

Oh, thank you for that soothing thought.

I'm gonna go wash down a pill with a glass of wine.

Hey, you guys, you were right.

- My dad may be having an affair. - Yes, we're always right.

What are you doing? Hey, hey, stop dancing.

Focus, listen to me. So I promised David that I would not follow my dad anymore,

but I never said anything about cyber-stalking.

- So help me out, creeps. - Well, if your dad's cheating,

he's down for more cheating.

His scumbag window is wide open.

- Repulsive, continue. - What you gotta do

is a little something called catfishing.

You know what that is? What you do is you create

a fake profile of some hot older babe,

and then, you lure your dad in with some sexy talk.

- Oh, that's good. - Mm-hmm.

Okay, okay, okay, let me try this.

- Uh, I am Claire... - Yes.

- St. Croix! - Nice, she sounds filthy.

- She sounds like a dead nun. - Okay, whatever, nerd.

This is happening. Okay, Claire St. Croix

is a 60-something buxom widow

who just joined my dad's active senior group.

Friendship request sent.

Oh, God, I want to throw up.

Bam. Okay!

What? He accepted already?

God, my dad is a slut.

Okay, let me take the wheel here.

Okay, yeah, I'll dictate. Let me get in the mindset

of a buxom widow. Uh, okay, okay.

Howdy, the passing of my husband has left my heart as heavy

as my breasts.

Oh, my God, no.

- That is weird. - So relax, heavy boobs.

Claire already sent your daddy a message.