What the fuck more do you guys want me to do? Sam, Dad, I've been trying to get you two to get along for like, fucking twenty-two years, and you still can't. We're in a goddamn crazy world where freakin' Superman's flying around, and I know God personally. I guess some things can't ever change.
And Bobby, seriously, you can't go, you're family. End of discussion.
We've got a chance to actually get along. And you're ruining it. And you guys, I can't take this shit anymore. Did any of you notice I got fucking engaged? I haven't even had the chance to show her off yet. And a wedding? Oh, that'd work out great, with you all punching each other out and yelling and being fucking children.
I'm going on vacation with Bela. Don't call me. Don't talk to me. Figure out what you guys need to figure out by the time I get back or I'm eloping and telling none of you.
I would've died for this family, and I still would, but at this rate there won't be any fucking family left.
Che, you're totally awesome and kind of exempt from this because you're somehow more mature than everyone else even though you've only technically been around for a few months. High five.