"Carl, this sneaking out every night to let that were-woman curse have its way with you has got to stop," said Greg, holding the tranquilizer gun in front of him. "Have you scratched or bitten any of those boys you're having sex with? Got any clothes to wear out there? Any Shoes? What happens if you get hurt out there, or captured? Do you want to risk people seeing your fat naked butt out there after sunup?"
Greg lowered the gun and tried another track. "Carl, If you're going to go out, at least let me help you. Unlike you I have a driver's license and a car. You can store some clothes, carry a cell phone, and take some precautions. You don't have to do this alone son. What do you say?"
Carl got a look in his eye, and climbed off the radiator, taking a step towards his old man. "Carl, what are you doing? Hay you little son of a bitch, you bit me. YOU BIT ME?"
