"Dad, why do we have a Nanny?"
"What are you talking about, son? What Nanny?"
"The largish woman in the corner, dressed as a cop, twirling that baton around. She said she's the Nanny. She keeps telling us what to do. She never shuts up."
"Oh, her...she's just helping you abide by the Rules of the House. It's for your own good."
"But I'm 23 years old."
"Yes."
"I don't need a Nanny".
"She's not a Nanny. Stop calling her that!"
"I'm an intelligent person. I'm responsible. I care about my fellow family members. I do my chores, and I pull my own weight. Why do I need this fat bitch to tell me what to do all the time?"
"Watch it, son. That's offensive language under the Rules of the House. She'll be on to you..."
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