dad: you've been receiving a lot of mails lately. what's that all about? [sweeps the garage's floor]
son: some letters from local colleges, few scholarships from some companies, the usual junk. [waters the roses]
dad: junk? you called that 'junk'? during my days, peope called that 'ticket out of poverty'. you don't get offered for scholarships or a place in a college, you worked for it till your knuckles bleed.
son: [lets out a silent breath before continues watering]
dad: [stops sweeping] along, are you listening?
son: well, that was decades ago. you wouldn't understand it now, ayah.
dad: i know that it is your future we are talking here, but think for others too, okay?
son: i know that, but all i want to do is take a rest for a while. y'know, kick back while i wait for the results.
dad: i have got nothing against that, along. the keyword here is 'priority'.
son: my priorities are clear. i deserve a state of rest, that's for sure.
dad: oh come on. [taps son's shoulder]
son: really, i am not kidding. i deserve at least a half-year of doing nothing, getting fat.
dad: okay, okay. so, what did you get from the mails actually?
son: like i said before, junk.
dad: i know that, but from whom?
son: TNB, MARA, Uniten, UTP, UM and PETRONAS. so you see, i am not that glamorous.
dad: not glamorous, my ass! you got more offer than your aunt did!
son: haha. [dry laughter]
dad: so, which one, eh?
son: i don't know. i need time to think over such matters, ayah.
dad: okay, but as of this moment? right here, right now, huh? [huge smile, puts arm around son's shoulder]
son: hm...PETRONAS, i guess.
dad: oh, why? [frowns] i thought you hated that company?
son: yeah, well...but that's where the PM get his cash, right?
dad: oh, i see. haha...haha...haha...[continues laughter]. oh God...haha...haha.