“Sure, Dad. What’s up?”

“You came in awfully late last night.”

“Yeah, I know. The David Cassidy concert ran later than I thought.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You’ve been seeing a lot of shows lately. Last week it was Killah Priest, and the week before that it was Tim McGraw and Counting Crows.”

“That’s right. And next week I’m seeing Today Is The Day, Garage A Trois and Brian Jonestown Massacre. So, what’s on your mind?”

“Well, Billy, What I’m getting at is, when you go to these shows, like Fleshtones or Pearl Jelly.”

“Pearl Jam, Dad.”

“Yeah, whatever. When you go to these shows, do you and your friends…”

“Yes, Dad?”

“Do you and your friends ever drink?”

“Uh?”

“You know, have a couple of beers, maybe a cocktail or two? Come on, Billy, you can tell me. I’m your father.”

“What is it with you, Dad? Every time I go to a show, no matter if it’s Steely Dan, Metallica or Tony Bennett, you’re always asking if I had a drink. What’s your point?”

“My point, Billy, is that I know there are lots of temptations in this world.”

“Oh, Dad. Not ‘the speech’ again.”

“Yes, Billy, ‘the speech.’ The world is filled with temptations.”

“I know, Dad, but…”

“And its easy to succumb to peer pressure.”

“But Dad…”

“First it’s a beer at the Dave Matthews Band concert. But before you know it, you’re sipping expensive single malt Scotch at Phish, or downing cognac and fine wines at Cheap Trick or Red Hot Chili Peppers.”

“But Dad…”

“No ‘buts,’ Billy. I’m your father. I have a responsibility. I worry every time you go out to see a concert, like The Wallflowers or Third Eye Blind, that you’re going to give in to temptation and have a drink. Now, I’m asking you, did you have a drink at the concert last night?”

“Err…”

“Well? I asked you a question, Billy. Did you have a drink at last night’s concert?”

“Uh…”

“Well?”

“Oh, Dad, do we have talk about this now?”

“I’ll ask you one last time. Did you have a -“

“Yes! Yes! Yes, I had a drink. I had a Manhattan before the show started. There! Are you satisfied?”

“Don’t raise your voice at me, young man.”

“For cryin’ out loud, Dad, I’m 37 years old! When I go to a show, say Bob Dylan or Yanni, if I want a drink, I’ll have a drink. That’s all there is to it. Got that? Good! Now, is there anything else you’ve got to say?”

“Just one thing, Billy.”

“What’s that?”

“Clean up your room.”