[fantasy:]
Shantay: I'm sorry, dear. Did you want something?
Will: Yes, I'd like to know what pods these kids came from.
Shaquille: Actually, Father, we came from a zygote. You see, in human reproduction...
Will: Uh, knock it off. Ever since you won that Nobel Prize you think you're so doggone smart.
Shantay: Honey, you seem tense.
Will: I am tense. Everybody all perfect, baby, I don't know.
Shantay: Why don't I send the children away and dress up in that French maid's uniform and give you a nice hot-oil massage?
Will: You, you, you! Why must everything always be about you? What about my needs?
Shantay: I'm sorry, honey. What do you want?
Will: I want a girl with extensions in her hair and bamboo earrings, at least two pair. I want kids that pick their noses sometimes and roll me when I'm drunk. I mean, I want a dirty house. No, I want a dirty house. I want to argue in public, you know. I want you to have a headache sometime. I want a regular life. I want a regular marriage.
Shantay: Sweetheart, you seem upset. Let's all give Daddy a great big hug.
Will: No! No!