Shoot Out

I'm in the Willow Oak house of my youth, and these two faded action stars who have had an intense, unyielding rilvarly for years have finally decided to settle the score. In my house. Dressed like two cowboy extras on the Paramount Lot, the men open fire on each other with shotguns, blowing cat-sized holes through the walls and knocking over furniture. I'm running around like a crazy person, trying to get them to understand that maybe firing at each other inside my house may not be the ideal way to settle their issues, when I notice Mac clutching Guion in his car seat and scrambling to get out of the house. As they sprint away to safety, I come upon his hastily scribbled note:

Melissa,

Sorry to rush out, but we don't feel like this is a very safe environment in which to raise a child.

Mac

And then I wake up.

Nah, I don't have any fears over being a bad parent.