Who in the history of the world has been least able to deal with a woman's tears? My father. I am second. He says to me, "You heard your mother. Don't eat French fries with Melvin Weiner after school."
"Or ever," she pleads.
"Or ever," my father says.
"Or hamburgers out," she pleads.
"Hamburgers," she says bitterly, just as she might say Hitler, "where they can put anything in the world in that they want-and he eats them. Jack, make him promise before he gives himself a terrible tsura, and it's too late."
"I promise!" I scream. "I promise!" and race from the kitchen …

P. Roth. P.C.