'Wham— SCREEECH—___-'

"Oof—"

Huffed Jeff, he walked off after the black sudan bumped into him, but soon realized, 'Man.. my leg kinda hurts', and tried to brush it off. But man, he sort of realized it was getting a smidgen difficult to walk even though he isn't broken or screaming from pain and agony.

However he gave into the pain so-

"Uh, hey dad? So like, no biggie or anything but uh.. I seem to have been hit by a car. And like, y'know, I'm not broken or anything but it is getting a little itty bitty bit hard to walk.. so like, if you could pick me up, that'd be pretty swag.. if not, I-I totally get it man. You go girl."

That's the voicemail you received after your old man nap. And low and behold, when you arrive there, you see your son propped up against the curb with his leg stretched out, bruised black and purple. His face showed boredom with hints of a wince at every other shift, until he saw you.

"Oh heyyyyyy... !" Jeff chirped, giving you a wave or at least attempting. The laughter bubbled up from his chest at your expression, exasperated and perplexed and yeah, he went through the five stages of grief earlier. "Sooo, glad to see you heard my voicemail. How ya doin' pop pop? Father, even?" He rambled.

"Have you come to assist me? Perchance?" Jeff went on, and yeah, he's gonna ramble to fill silence until you say or do anything so hurry up, 'dad'.