look at the old man glaring at ashley. he can't even tone it down at mom's funeral?
yeah, well your kid's wearing a timberwolves jersey. i'm sure dad appreciates that.
what are we going to do with him? don't you think he'll get in trouble by himself over in the old neighborhood?
ha ha.
ashley, honey. why don't you help grandpa walt with the chairs?
i'd really like to help, dad, but we have to get the kids home, they're getting restless. walt just looks at the toyota emblem on the land cruiser and then gives mitch a disgusted glance.
i'll call in a few, see how you're doing. walt nods and lights a cigarette as they drive off.
did you see him look at the truck? it's always rice-burner this or jap-buggy that. even at mom's funeral, he can't let it go.
he didn't have to.
and i suppose that's my goddamned fault?
morning, dad, it's your number one son, mitch.
right, good afternoon, then.
me? nothing. what would i want?
no. i was just wondering how you are, what's going on, anything new in the old neighborhood? walt looks at the bullet hole in his hamm's beer sign.
great. smooth sailing then?
well good.  say, dad?
do you still know that guy from the plant who has viking season tickets?
go ahead, dad. open it.
just open it. walt opens the package, it's a gopher reaching tool -- the kind that has an alligator clamp so you can pick up objects that have fallen behind the stove, etc. walt looks at his son and daughter-in-law.
it's a gopher. it's so you can reach stuff. you know, it makes things easier.
karen's right, dad. you've worked hard your whole life. maybe you should think about taking it a little easier? walt lights up a cigarette.
and that's another thing, dad. you should get rid of the coffin nails. walt says nothing.
and the house, now that mom's gone, it's got to be a lot to maintain, let alone clean.  and you're all alone in here. it's worse than walt thought. he puffs smoke.
dad, take a look. we brought some pamphlets.
i told you, i told you this was a bad idea.
son of a bitch! he just won't let anyone help him.
to hell with him, kicking us out on his birthday?! we should've stayed home with ashley and josh. they knew better, they wouldn't even come. the goddamned kids are smarter than we are! mitch screeches the tires as they take off. walt waits for them to clear out, before coming out on the porch with a can of pabst. daisy comes out and lies at his feet. walt covers his mouth as he coughs. a dime-sized circle of dark, red blood is left in the palm of his hand. walt looks at the blood as he takes another sip of beer.
i'm doing bills here.
hello, dad.
i know. what's up? the camera intercuts between mitch in his huge kitchen and walt sitting on the edge of his bed.
i'm fine, fine.
everyone is fine.
good.
busy.
speaking of busy, i have a lot on my plate right now, unless there's something pressing. walt looks at a pale, blue pamphlet. mitch looks at his housekeeping bill.
okay. yeah, so it's not a good time right now. why don't you call me over the weekend.
okay, it was nice talking to you, bye, dad. walt hangs up. he lies down on his bed.
yeah, fine. just don't spend too much goddamned money.
thank god. finally get the house to myself for once. the phone rings. mitch looks at the caller id. it says; dad. mitch almost doesn't pick it up.
hello.
hey, dad. what's up? the camera intercuts between walt in his small kitchen and mitch in his huge den.
uh-huh.
yeah, that'll help.
uh-huh.
oh.
does it have to be done right this second? it's been down there for years.
does it work? we were thinking about getting a freezer. what are you going to do with it?
oh.  can't she give you a hand?
i know, i was joking.  what does she need it for?
yeah, well, i'd love to help you out, dad, but i'm just walking out the door. i have to bring the kids to the mall. sorry.
why don't you call stevie?
well, i don't know what to tell you, i'm on my way out. keys in my hand.
if you can't find anyone by next week, give me a call. walt nods and hangs up. mitch hangs up and takes a sip of beer.
aunt mary. like she needs a freezer.