Joe: I spilled juice on the rug. Please don't tell Mama.
Jay: Don't tell Mama?
[aside to camera:]
Jay: What about, "Don't tell Papa?" A boy is supposed to fear his father. I shook in my boots around my old man, just like he did around his. To this day, I hear the crack of a Schlitz or smell some Singleton's Beard Tonic, and I'm sweating like a mob rat in Little Italy.