"I want to beat you to death with a blunt object.

I want to grab one of those high-end fashion mannequins by the ankles and bash your rib cage in.

I want to sharpen 50 pencils, bind them with a rubber band, stick the lead ends in your mouth and punch the erasers.

I want to strap you to a bed of nails, then strap that bed of nails to the hood of my car so I can watch you suffer as we drive over the speed bumps in a mall parking lot during an earthquake.

I want you to somehow survive a terrible car crash and somehow not survive a small fender-bender on the way back from the hospital."

[Chime Strikes]

Thank you, that's called "Dad"