Dad, is that you?

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Very drunk man in his 30s, shabby clothes, holding beer can, approaches very well dressed executive type in early 60s - pinstriped suit, tie, white shirt, polished brogues, briefcase, silver hair.

Young man: SIR! You could be my Dad.
Executive: No, I don’t think so.
Young man (bows): Excuuuuse me, sir. I think you are my DAD. Just need some change…Hold this…
Executive (absently takes can): What are you doing? I’m not your father…
Young man: That’s riiiight!! Hold it. (leans over and messes up the perfect silver hair)
Executive (angrily): That’s enough!
Young man: Thorry sir…! Your too…tooo…well..dressed up for Dad.
Executive (calmly): Alright. Now please…
Young man: You look more like my DAD each…minute! Do one thing. Just one thing. Just one thing…One…
Executive: What is it?
Young man: My Dad was always barefoot when he drank. Never wore thooze. Now please…just take off those fancy thooze and socks… sit down on the….f.f.f.floor…And lose that necktie…
Executive: I am not taking off my socks and shoes and tie and I won’t lie down in a train station. And I don’t drink. Sorry. (gets up)
Young man: SIRRRR!
Executive (relents before he leaves): I hope you find your father..

– Overheard in Toronto at Union Station

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