- I am back!

- My dad called this dumb creature his first son,

AKA Chimpy and when Chimpy was here,

I felt like a baby, a powerless worm boy,

drained of my sunny strength,

but as the flame burns this photo, it fills me with power.

- Ya huh and it looks so fricken cool!

I can't stand it.

Burning stuff rules.

- My life is only about two things now,

chillin' with my spastic girlfriend.

- And feeding the flame.

- Mm, dad?

- Not now, Junior!

You're father's got a sweet, blue fin on the line,

that (inhales) new book tuna.

- Can Junior help?

- Yeah, by scootin' your little bowl-cut overboard

and letting me reel in the catch of a lifetime.

- Mm, but dad?

- No buts!

Dad's busy and fresh out of dumb fishing metaphors.

Here, go chew gum with Son and leave me alone.

(Junior grunts) (door thumps)

(dramatic, slow music)

(flames crackling)

(Junior grunting)

- Junior, my young ember.

- Oh.

- [Together] Welcome to the Cult of Eternal Flame.

(Junior grumbles)

(upbeat music) - Son?

- [Son] Not now, dad.

- Hey son. - Get out!

- [Dad] I love you, son! (upbeat music)

(dad laughing)

- Are you sure this is okay?

- Ssh brethren,

I don't want nark Blark snuffing out our place, craze.

We must keep our voices to a simmer.

Oh, my puns are on fire.

(laughing) I did it again.

- Fuel for the eternal flame, my fire lord.

Imagine the epic meltage.

- Incandescence, my priestess.

Your inner flame is blinding.

(laughing maniacally)

- What's this all about, Blark?

You know I don't like being in your room.

I find you gross.

- Shh.

No one can know what's going on in here, Fletch.

This meeting is strictly between you, me

and this pair of 1916 Army issued, cold rolled,

steel soled, great war combat boots.

- (gasps) Oh my God, the stories are true.

How'd you do it, Blark?

- Remember that 18 carat gold bar we found

in that bunker in Beirut?

I tossed it through a pawn shop window

and stole these boots.

(shattering glass) - Get back here!

- The way I see it,

I can keep these babies in mint condition

until they appreciate into a proper college fund for Son.

Or--

- We spend the rest of the day kicking shit.

(energetic rock music)

- An evil punch card to Chubby's Food House,

the very place that holds

the greasy cure to mother's hangovers.

A little girl

should never have to scooter through a drive-through!

I release you to the flame.

- [Together] Burn that which brings you pain,

fuel the light of eternal flame.

(Junior grumbles)

- What burdens you, young ember?

Release your troubles into the fire.

- The eternal flame takes the bad and burns it good.

(Junior grumbling)

- I should go. (energetic music)

(carefree music)

(crashing)

(laughing) (energetic, rock music)

(crashing) (laughing)

(grunting) (crashing)

- Spin kick!

- Yeah!

Woo, I haven't stomped like that

since I was a tester at Mozzelstomp,

a factory that made wine glasses for Jewish weddings.

- [Group] Hey!

- We have to kick quietly.

Don't want Son to know we piped his dumb toys for boot gas.

Now, use that foxy leg canon

to silently destroy this glass palace.

(grunting)

(glass shatters)

- Yeah, packing up the old outline now

and I'll be at the agency in 20 minutes to pitch you.

- [Miles] Stacey, do not (bleep) me again.

- Miles, Miles, this is my magnum opus.

Fitzgerald wrote "Gatsby", Tolkien wrote "Rings"

and I am writing "The Joy of Being a Patient Parent."

(Miles talking) - Um dad?

- Junior, no!

(bleep) No!

(Junior grumbles) Yeah, ya heard right,

it's a parenting book, yeah, about patience.

(Junior grumbles) (dramatic music)

- Eternal flame accepts all.

Cast your burden into its righteous maul.

- Tell us, young ember,

what troubles do you cast into the flame?

- (grumbling) A paradox of bad parenting.

If Stacey writes this book, it will fail.

Misery will follow.

If I destroy it now, a lesser misery (grunts) will follow,

leaving just enough time for me to be tended to,

thus, (grunts) I poison the well from which I drink,

with willful guilt and frightful shame,

I cast you into the righteous (grunting)

righteous (grunting)

I cast you into the righteous (grunting)

- [Regina] You okay, dude?

(Junior gasping)

- Flame!

- It's game time, Stace, time to make mama proud.

(dramatic music) - Don't chew gum, son.

- Junior.

- [Group] Burn that which brings you pain.

Fuel the light of eternal flame.

Burn that which brings you pain.

Fuel the light of eternal flame.

Burn that which brings you pain.

Fuel the light of eternal flame.

(dramatic, slow music) (gasping)

(door slams) - Junior!

Oh thank goodness. (gasping)

Give

me

the envelop.

- Huh,

I love you, dad.

(dad gasping)

(Junior screaming)

(dramatic, slow music)

(dad screaming)

(crashing)

(cheerful, jazzy music)

(clattering) (labored breathing)

- Wait a minute, I know that smell.

(sniffs) Burning human flesh.

- (sniffs) From the scent,

I'd say it's a white.

(Stacey screaming)

- We were playing in the garage

and Stacey lit himself on fire!

- You thinking what I'm thinking?

- Hard to say, does it rhyme with strom stracy?

(screaming) (fire crackling)

♪ As long as I'm here by your side ♪

♪ Then times are strung together ♪

♪ Around your life ♪

♪ This world may stand against us ♪

♪ But we'll make it through all right ♪

♪ When I'm here by your side ♪

(chaotic screaming) (cheery, slow music)

- Son, normally I'd be super P.O.'ed to find out

you were burning stuff in the garage,

but I suppose I got a little destructive

with my own urges today.

Tell you what, let's call it even Steven

and never talk of this again.

- You got it, dad.

Hey, have you seen my collectible action figures?

- We agreed to never talk of this again.

(son whimpers)

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I need to invoice Stacey for ruining my boots

with his burny skin. (laughs)

(door slams)

(crickets chirping)

- [Miles] Hey Stacy, your buddy Miles here.

You know, just waiting outside of the agency.

Coffee's finished, biscuit has been eaten,

been 25 minutes since you would be here 15 minutes ago!

What the (bleep) do you think this is, Stacey?

I gave you a chance, you little (bleep) worm.

If you (voice trails off behind music)

(dramatic music) - I'm back.

(dramatic, orchestral music)