Andrew: Don’t we get off here, at this exit?

Rob: Beats me . . . You said you had the directions covered.

Andrew: Yeah, but I’m also driving right now. Just look in the glove compartment. I think I put them in there.

Rob: They’re not here.

Andrew: They should be . . . Let me see . . . Oh man, I took them out to double-check something and forgot to put them back in. It must have slipped my mind . . .

Rob: So we’re lost? That’s great.

Andrew: It’s no big deal. We can call or ask someone for directions.

Rob: This is typical. Why did you say you’d handle the directions if you weren’t going to handle them?

Andrew: Look who’s talking! The only reason I said I’d handle them is because I knew you couldn’t be counted on.

Rob: Me? You’ve got to be kidding. You’re the one who doesn’t give a damn about anyone around you.

Andrew: All right, let’s not fly off the handle here. We just need to get directions. There’s no reason to make a mountain out of a molehill. What’s the deal?
(Silence.)

Andrew: C’mon. If you have a bone to pick with me, don’t beat around the bush . . . Let’s get it out in the open before we get to Aunt Helen’s place.

Rob: All right, fine. I think you’ve become a bit of a slacker lately.

Andrew: You think I’m a slacker? That’s a bit harsh. Why would you say something like that? What’s eating you?

Rob: Well, for instance, last week you needed to borrow one of my shirts for work because you didn’t bother to plan ahead and buy one yourself.

Andrew: It’s just a shirt! Are you really that bent out of shape over my borrowing a shirt? You need to lighten up a bit, Rob.

Rob: It’s not just the shirt, Andrew. It’s that you lean on everyone else and expect them to pick up your slack. You don’t take responsibility—you’re always passing the buck.

Andrew: That’s insane. I needed a shirt for a new job. If I were such a slacker I wouldn’t even have a job.

Rob: Okay, let’s talk about the job, then.

Andrew: What about it?

Rob: Well, I got you that job. I hooked you up with a great job at a place where I’ve worked for three years.

Andrew: And I’ve thanked you for it like a thousand times.

Rob: Yeah, but what you do there reflects on me. If you screw up it really gives me a bad name.

Andrew: How am I screwing up? I work my tail off there!

Rob: Sometimes, yeah, but you also sit around twiddling your thumbs a lot, too.

Andrew: Oh, that’s bull.

Rob: No, it’s true. And you also seem to find a lot of time to chat up the pretty girls who walk in instead of doing your job.

Andrew: I’m a salesman! I’m supposed to talk with the customers.

Rob: But it’s the same thing at home. You’re still living with Mom and Dad, and you hardly ever lift a finger around the house to help out. You’re 22 years old and your room looks like a train wreck. You don’t even pitch in with groceries . . .

Andrew: That’s not true at all! And how would you know? You’re not even there.

Rob: I have eyes, Andrew. I can see. You still act like a child sometimes.

Andrew: Oh, you need to get off your high horse, Rob. You’re the one acting like a child. You’re still trying to show everyone up, like little Mr.Perfect. You were a goody-goody as a kid, and you haven’t changed since.

Rob: Hey, what do you know . . . ?

Andrew: What?

Rob: While we were at each other’s throats you somehow managed to get us to Aunt Helen’s.

Andrew: Oh, yeah. That’s her house there. Pretty good for such a slacker.

Rob: Just park the car and give it a rest for now.

Andrew: Gladly. Just don’t criticize my parking job.

Rob: Ugh. The ride home is going to be long . . .