Duration: 2m6s

Yeah, hello. My name's Raymond Bishop. This is my son, Harold. Say hello, Harold. I'm sorry. What's going on? Well, it seems your son was down in the woods giving out free tattoos, and my son was one of his victims. What? Well, I-I don't understand. How do you know it was my son? How'd you get this address? I have my ways. Believe me, I have my ways. Are you a cop? No, I'm a fireman, okay? I work for a living. Look at this. Do you believe this? You see that there? See that line? I don't know if you burn these off or what, but we're taking care of this and you're paying for it, you understand me? - I don't know what this is. - Scott! Oh. I am... I'm so sorry. I-I-I... There's an aesthetic laser at the hospital where I work, and it can completely remove it. Uh, I get a discount. I'm-I'm gonna pay for the whole thing. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm... I feel terrible. You should feel terrible! Look at that! - What's up? Oh, fuck. - Ah, there he is. - You get your ass out here! - Hey, he said he was 18. He looks like he's four, you fucking moron! Sorry. - He consented! - He's lying. - Harold, come on! - Course he's lying! You can't have consent! He's nine years old! Dad, let's go. You're embarrassing me. We're not going anywhere, okay? He's just a little kid! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Uh, he was roaming around in the woods. He wanted a tattoo. W-Where were you? I was at fucking work! - Fuck you! - Hey! - Come out here! If I was you, I'd shut your fucking mouth, because I can call the cops right now and have your ass thrown in jail. - For what? - For sticking needles in a kid's arm, you fucking dope! Did you even raise him? Did you even raise him? You know, there's no reason to call the cops. I can handle this and I can also handle disciplining him. Well, clearly you can't or you wouldn't have a middle-aged son still living at home, tattooing minors against their will! I asked him to do it. - It's not his fault. - That's right. That's my man. Go wait in the car. Harold, go on. And don't raise your voice at me, either. Later, Harold. Don't say goodbye to my kid. Look both ways. - Look both ways! - Go to your room. - I am! - Watch your mouth. For your information, I am not a middle-aged man. I'm a 24-year-old man, and I'm going to my room 'cause I fucking want to. What kind of fucking animal are you raising in this house, huh? I'm bringing you the bill. I don't care what it costs, all right? - I mean, what the fuck is going on around here? - All right. Just give me a day to arrange the laser. All right. You know, you know something? I-Is his father home? Where's his dad? I-I don't, I don't want to fucking yell at you. He's deceased.