"Nobody," the cartoon father said. "What I said was, 'It's about fucking time my food got here.' Right, Son?"

"Sure, Dad." The cartoon boy smiled up at the nurse, who was now setting the tray in front of the cartoon father. "Hi, Stephen."

"Hello yourself," the nurse said, without turning away from the cartoon father. He uncovered the plate. "Num-NUM! Look what we have here!"

"Yeah, I'm lookin'," the cartoon father said.

"Creamed corn. Brown rice. Two sticks of celery. And your favorite." Next to the plate was a clear plastic package. The nurse tore open the package and removed a fork, a spoon, a knife, and a napkin. He handed the spoon to the father and placed the other items back on the tray.

"What's my favorite?" the cartoon father asked.

"De-ee-licious lactose-free milk!"

"That's my favorite? Are you sure?"

"Absolutely, sir! Apple-so-lutely!" The nurse opened the milk carton. "Num-num!"

"You said that already."

"And I'm saying it again, by golly! Num-num! Num-num-NUM-num-num! Look at them victuals! Just look at 'em!"

"I have to eat it, too, right?"

"No, you don't have to eat it."

"I don't?"

"You want to eat it, you want to eat your creamed corn. Who, sir, would not want to eat his creamed corn? Who?"