“Earl,” she said, shaking him from his slumber. “Earl, wake up.”

            “Huh?” he muttered behind closed eyes.

            “Earl, get up. Your son is still awake.”

            “Wha...what do you mean?”

            “It's late, on a school night, and Bobby's up to something. I heard him moving around in there.”

            Her husband opened his eyes and groaned. “Ugh. Fine.” He slid out of bed and slumped his way to the bedroom door, with her close behind.

            “Look,” she whispered, pointing down the dark hallway. A faint blue glow illuminated the sliver of void underneath the boy's door. “He's on the computer. Who knows what he's doing in there? You need to handle it.”

            The father's mind quickly scanned through a short list of possibilities. “Oh, come on,” he whispered in frivolous revolt. “Who cares? Boys will be boys.” This was immediately met with the sting of her oh-so-familiar death glare. He felt it in his peripherals, though deciding not to test or acknowledge it. He waved her away and crept his way down the hallway. There at the door, he raised his fist to knock, but hesitated. “This is stupid,” he thought. “I don't know what he's doing, and I don't want to know.” He looked back to see his wife still standing in the master bedroom's doorway. “She knows me too well.”

            The soft clacking of fingers on a keyboard turned his attention back to his mission. He knocked. “Bobby.” Upon speaking, he could hear a desperate rustling behind the door, followed by the closing of a laptop screen. He sighed. “Bobby, I'm coming in. Are you dressed?”

            “Uh, yeah, dad. What's up?” a nervous young voice said.

            Earl opened the door slowly, entered, and flipped on the light. “What are you doing up?”

            “Nothing,” the preteen said, sitting on his bed with the laptop poorly hidden under a pillow. He brushed aside the shaggy brown mop on his head to attempt to look his dad in the eyes. “I was just having t..trouble sleeping, is all. Yeah.”

            “Now son, don't lie to me.”

            “Lie? What? Why would I-”

            Earl lunged forward and pulled the laptop from beneath the pillow. “What am I going to find when I open this?”

            “Dad, no! Come on.”

            Earl flipped open the laptop screen to reveal what his son was watching. “My god, it's worse than I thought! No sir! Bobby Lee Bushnell, we don't watch this FILTH in my house! I don't care how curious you are!

            “What is it?” came a voice from down the hall.

            “Come on, dad,” said the boy. “Everybody's doing it!”

            Earl looked as though he was about to spit in his son's face. He slammed the laptop shut and tapped his index finger on the sticker-covered top. “I'm taking this.”

            “No- you can't!”

            “I can, and I did!”

            “Earl, what was he watching?”

            “The presidential debate.”

            “Oh, my god!”