Worlds Greatest Dad

---

(dramatic orchestral

music plays)

Man's voice:

My name is Lance clayton.

My biggest fear in life is

that I'm going to end up all alone.

I'm a writer.

I'm a writer, but so far

nothing I've written

has ever been published.

Ernest Hemingway

once said

all he wanted to do was

write one true sentence.

He also tried to scratch

an itch on the back of his head

with a shotgun.

- (game-show music playing)

- (applause)

I've always dreamed

of being a famous author,

of creating

an important work...

Ooh la la la la la la la

La la la la la la

Saa la la la la

la la la...

...something that connected

with people and helped them

as they suffered through

the human condition...

Ooh la la la...

...also something that made

a shitload of cash.

(slot machine dinging,

coins dropping)

(champagne cork pops)

Ooh la la la la la...

(coins dropping)

I've written novels,

books, magazine articles,

and even

children's stories.

- All have been rejected.

- (printer humming)

I did sell a few

greeting cards once, though.

It felt pretty good.

I don't find

the creative process

in itself rewarding enough.

I have to be honest...

I want to reach an audience.

This is my fifth novel.

I've promised myself that

if this one is rejected,

I'll give up writing.

- (knocks)

- Come on, boy, we're late.

Hey, buddy, l...

Kyle?

Oh, fuc...

what the f***?

- God! Kyle?

- D-Dad?

- What are you doing?

- What are you doing?

- God, I was coming, you fag!

- Jesus christ.

- I thought you were dead.

- Do you knock? Please!

I knocked.

Okay, yep.

- Out!

- God, l...

- Get out of my room!

- I'm out. I'm going.

- I'm out of here.

- You ever heard of privacy?

- You freak!

- Yeah, I'm the weird one.

Yeah. Oh, God.

(sighs)

What the f***?

(rock music playing)

Dad?

- Dad!

- Oh, yeah. Right.

Radio:
What do you do?

Where do you go?

(turns off)

You were up early.

- You're not funny.

- Okay.

What a Monday.

Somewhere else...

Why are we

listening to this?

'Cause I like

Bruce Hornsby.

(turns off)

Stop it.

Bruce Hornsby is a fag.

- He's got kids, Kyle.

- You have a kid.

- Mmm.

- And you're a fag.

- Why? Because I like Bruce Hornsby?

- Yeah.

Well, put on some music

you like. Okay?

No, I f***ing hate music.

- You hate music?

- Yeah.

- All music?

- Yes.

The only thing queerer than music

are the people who like it.

All music is gay now?

What about heavy metal?

That's probably the faggiest

of all the fag music out there.

Kyle, you could have

died this morning.

Well...

of embarrassment.

What you're doing

is dangerous.

What? Beating off?

No no... not...

we all have needs, Kyle.

Needs? What...

what are you talking about?

Masturbation is natural, okay?

- You know what's not natural?

- What?

Talking about jerking off

with your dad. That's not natural.

- Sh*t.

- Don't do that, please, okay?

- Why?

- Because your feet are dirty.

Because I said so.

(sighs)

- Whoa, let me out here.

- Let me park in the lot.

Lance, I'm gonna look like a dillweed

walking in with you, all right?

It's bad for my rep.

Don't call me Lance.

It's your name,

isn't it? Lance?

What do you do?

Where do you go?

What do you say?

And how do you know?

I'll say who cares

When people stare

I will make myself

invisible

Yes, I will, yes, I will

Mm-hmm

Mm-hmm hmm...

Slow down, boys.

When I feel like a freak...

'Morning.

When I'm on the other end

of someone's mean streak

People make fun,

I've got to lose myself...

Danny.

Take my thin skin

and move it somewhere else

I'm setting myself up

for the future

Looking for the chance that something

good might lie ahead

I guess I'm looking

for the possibilities

And in my mind

I've got this skin

I can shed...

What do you do?

Where do you go?

- Good morning, Lance.

- 'Morning Principal Anderson.

- What was that?

- Oh, personal mail,

but I used

my own postage.

- Mmm. Good.

- Right.

May I speak with you

for a moment?

Sure.

Your poetry course...

it's not very popular.

- Neither is poetry, sir.

- Mmm.

But the few who take it,

they get a lot out of it.

Yes yes,

I'm sure they do.

But I am sorry...

if your class enrollment

doesn't improve by next semester,

we're going to have to drop it.

We're only budgeted

for one English elective,

and Mike Lane's creative-writing

course is quite the hit.

I just wanted to give you

a heads up.

Well, thank you, sir.

(jazz playing)

- Hey, what's going on, Mr. L?

- Hey, how you doin', man?

- Good. How are you?

- Ready for tonight's game?

- Yeah, you gonna be there?

- I'll be there. Of course.

- Good.

- Throw a touchdown for me, all right?

- Of course!

- Hey, Lancelot!

- What's up, buddy?

- Not much, Mike.

All right.

'Morning, Miss Reed.

- Hello, Mr. Clayton.

- How are you?

- Good. How are you?

- Mmm.

Ahh, my favorite.

I thought teachers weren't

supposed to have favorites.

Not favorite students.

(giggles)

I'm a lucky guy.

How does a lump like me

get a dame like you?

Don't insult my taste.

I'm the lucky guy.

You finished?

Yeah. I wanted you to be

the first to read it.

I'm honored.

Really?

Maybe I'll take you

someplace fancy for dinner.

How about you come over to my place

for something hot and spicy?

- Is that a double entendre?

- No.

- I was just going to make you my chili.

- Oh.

And then bang you.

- Great!

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