dad, suspiciously: who is this?
dad, worriedly: is this about the car?
dad: oh god. you've lost your health insurance.
mom: ooh let's do facetime!
me: you kind of just came out of nowhere!
dad: i do not like facetime.
a lengthy bout of typing and muttering.
dad: i'm not seeing—who is "BonerDog420"?
me: i have no idea what you're even looking at.
dad: the only person on the list that i can call is "BonerDog420." but that's not you.
me: what list? how did you arrive at—you know what, never mind.
dad: maybe we should call him to make sure.
me: do what you need to do. can i just tell you about—
mom: reid i don't think you should EWW
mom: TURN IT OFF. TURN IT OFF.
me: maybe you guys can call me back!
mom: honey, are you okay?
mom: you look kind of gaunt. you look very thin and pale.
dad: you always forget that's just how he looks.
me: yeah. mom, this is what i look like all the time.
mom: it's not how you used to look. you used to—
me: my script is on the black list!
me: it's #8! it's in the top ten of the black list!
dad: is that good? that sounds bad.
mom: you look like you're not eating enough.
me: i'm fine. guys. this is a really big deal.
me: the black list is a prestigious list of unproduced scripts. a bunch of executives put it together, and uh.
me: it's a really good thing. it's a great thing that happened to me, and my script, and my whole career.
dad: so does this mean you can get a job?
mom: he means a job where you get paid.
me: i have a job where i get paid. i write scripts now, and this means maybe i can sell them, and get paid. that's my job. this is a real job now.
dad: so have you gotten paid to do any other scripts?
me: no, but—it's a job. it's a real job.
mom: well... yes. okay. then this is really good news!
dad: it's very good news. we're very proud of you.
mom: grandma will be so happy! you should call her right now.
dad: and then you should call bonerdog.
dad: i have a feeling he's going to be really, really excited about it.