Brick: Come on, Dad. I finally have a reason to go out. I've got a real suit. It doesn't wrinkle. It has secret inside pockets. The color's majestic. It broadens my shoulders, slims my waist, and gives me the muscles of an eighth grader. But it's more than just superficial high-end apparel. It feels like armor that protects me against whatever life throws my way. Today, it was sloppy joe flicked from a spoon. This suit makes me feel like a winner, and I want to show it off at your awards ceremony. Not moving you, huh?
Mike: No.