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"Oh you've gotta be FUCKING kidding me! What a fucking squealer!" (Now that wasn't me that said that just now. That was Dad. I wouldn't dare talk that way to Mom.)

It's at this point that Mom slams the already nearly overflowing cussing jar down in front of Dad. The thousands of coins clatter against each other within as it thuds against the table. I hadn't noticed where she'd retrieved it from, but she apparently had it on hand, having seen Dad's outburst coming.

He sighed and tossed a quarter in. Mom held up two fingers, and Dad tossed a second quarter in, than muttered "Jesus Christ," and flicked a third in after it.

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