Sorry, Dad. I know you hate when I tell stories about you, but I had to share this one.
Me: "While I was working, I got hit with a biscuit pan straight out of the oven. See my burn?
Dad: "Yeah. See mine?"
Me: "That's a cold sore."
Dad: "Same thing. A cold sore is like a burn from the inside."
Me: "You get those all the time. I must not have the cold sore gene."
Dad: "I didn't get my first one until I was about 20, and even then, it was small. Then, my second one was a little bigger. And my third one looked like someone shot me with a .38 at point blank range."
I don't care who you are. That's funny right there.