My dad and I argue a lot. But never over anything serious. There some sort of unspoken rule in my family that we can only get into a shouting match over things that don’t matter at all.
Like the time my dad tried to unlock my car and then threw the keys at me and yelled for a full ten minutes about how I need to better take care of my things. (BTW, he was trying to unlock my car with HIS car keys. And then he yelled at me for not telling him that he was trying to unlock my car with his keys.)
We never seem to argue — or even discuss — anything that really matters. But the more inconsequential a topic, the louder we’ll shout and the longer we’ll stay mad at each other.
So this evening, after watching the “Angels Take Manhattan” episode of DOCTOR WHO, my dad and I almost came to blows in an argument over Weeping Angels. Tonight’s argument went a little something like this (SPOILERS, Sweeties.):
DAD: What I don’t get is why doesn’t the Doctor just pick up a baseball bat and hit the Weeping Angels with it?
ME: Because they’re in a hotel. There isn’t a baseball bat around.
DAD: There could be.
ME: But there’s not. And even if there was, he’d have to quickly look around for it, taking his eyes off the Angel, and then they’d get him and send him back in time.
DAD: You mean to tell me he couldn’t keep his eye on the Angel and just back up until he found a baseball bat or a crowbar?
ME: In the middle of an empty hotel hallway? He’s just gonna find a random baseball bat laying around?
DAD: Fine! They’re not in a hotel! They’re in a warehouse and there’s a two-by-four right in front of him. You’re telling me he couldn’t just knock off the statue’s head?
*my dad picks up a bottle of Vitamin Water that was left on the coffee table and mimes hitting me over the head with it*
ME: With a two-by-four?
DAD: FINE! A sledgehammer, then! What if he had a sledgehammer?
ME: *under my breath* JFC.
ME: What if he had a NUKE?!
ME: It doesn’t matter, because they’re not in a warehouse! They’re in an empty hotel hallway and they don’t have a baseball bat or a crowbar or a sledgehammer or a &$^@ing two-by-four or any other weapon that can hurt a Weeping Angel!!!
DAD: Well, why not?!
ME: Well, for one thing, they are inside of a hotel that’s practically run by the Weeping Angels. This is their farm to feed from. This is their house. WHY would they keep weapons that could hurt them in their own house?!
DAD: Maybe they just forgot that they had them.
ME: Forgot what? That the had a SLEDGEHAMMER — OR ANY OTHER WEAPON THAT CAN HURT THEM — just laying around? In the hotel where they harvest their food?
ME: First of all, that would be like Superman storing Kryptonite in the Fortress of Solitude and then just FORGETTING ABOUT IT!
ME: Second, would YOU forget that you had a gun in the house, but still just leave it laying around on the coffee table, for the hostages you have trapped in the kitchen to find?
DAD: I don’t know why he just doesn’t run ’em over with a truck.
ME: You realize that you are basically a crazy person, right?
ME: THEY’RE ON THE SEVENTH FLOOR OF A HOTEL!! WHERE’S HE GETTING A TRUCK FROM?
DAD: I’m just saying, all he did was run away. Running away is stupid. I don’t know why he just didn’t grab something and knock their heads off.
ME: Because that’s NOT the story that’s being told!
ME: The story that’s being told is that they are trapped — SURROUNDED — by Weeping Angels and they are DEFENSELESS against them. Y’know, for the sake of PLOT and DRAMA?
DAD: Whatever. Y’know, I could have been watching the ball game instead of this…