[Scene: A father and son in a small wooden fishing boat on a peaceful lake. The morning sun is just peeking through the trees. It’s quiet—except for occasional bird calls and the light plop of a lure hitting water.]
Son (grumbling):
We’ve been out here for two hours, Dad. We could’ve just stayed home and watched YouTube.
Dad:
And miss all this fresh air and fatherly wisdom? Perish the thought.
Son:
If this is about another “life lesson,” can I just Venmo you $10 and go home?
Dad (chuckling):
Nope. You’re trapped. Boat’s too far from shore and I’ve got the oars.
Son:
Great. Kidnapped by philosophy.
Dad:
Call it a hostage situation with character development.
Now listen: Murphy’s Law. The more you fear something, the more likely it is to happen.
Son:
So if I fear fish, will we catch one?
Dad:
Clever. But no. It’s more like if you fear embarrassment, you’ll probably trip on stage and fart.
Son:
Noted. What else you got?
Dad:
Kidman’s Law. Write the problem down, and it’s halfway solved.
Son:
That’s what my math teacher says. Problem is, I can’t read my own handwriting.
Dad:
Then type it. Use that fancy phone. Just don’t let it think for you.
Son (mock gasp):
Blasphemy.
Dad:
Gilbert’s Law: No one tells you what to do at work. You gotta figure it out or fake it well enough that people think you know.
Son:
So adulthood is just winging it professionally?
Dad:
Pretty much. Like improv, but with health insurance.
Son:
Doesn’t sound inspiring.
Dad:
Yet here I am, still alive and moderately sane.
Son:
That’s debatable.
Dad (grinning):
Touché.
Now here’s gold: Walson’s Law. If you put intelligence and information first, the money comes.
Son:
So… be smart, get rich?
Dad:
Not instantly. But you’ll outlast the people who only chase quick cash. Brains build bridges. Greed builds potholes.
Son:
That was actually deep. Are you okay?
Dad:
I’ve been saving that one.
And Falkland’s Law—don’t make a decision if you don’t have to. Sometimes the smartest move is no move.
Son:
So like me not texting my ex back?
Dad:
Exactly. Give yourself time. Or as your generation says—“don’t catch feelings, catch fish.”
Son:
No one says that, Dad.
Dad:
Well, they should.
[They both laugh. The mood softens. A heron glides over the water nearby.]
Dad (more serious):
Look, I know I joke a lot. But I mean this stuff. Life teaches slow, but it grades hard.
Say less—your words matter more.
Don’t take stuff personal—most folks are too busy worrying about themselves.
Focus on what’s possible, not what’s broken.
Son:
That sounds like something from Pinterest.
Dad:
And yet still true. Also: pain sucks, but it changes you. One day you’ll look back and realize your worst moments made you better.
Son:
Ugh. This sounds like a sad country song.
Dad:
Maybe. But you’ll sing it one day.
People come into your life for a reason. Sometimes to help you, sometimes for you to help them.
Son:
And sometimes to ruin your group projects.
Dad:
Exactly. You learn from those, too.
Try new things. Make memories. Be grateful. Guard your words. And remember—life is a mirror. What you think, what you expect—that’s what shows up.
Son:
So if I expect pizza tonight…?
Dad:
You still might get broccoli. But you’ll handle it better.
And this last one’s the kicker. The only person you gotta face every morning is the one brushing your teeth.
Son:
Unless I skip brushing.
Dad:
Then you’ll smell your regrets.
[They sit in silence for a moment. The bobber on the son’s line bounces.]
Son:
Hey Dad?
Dad:
Yeah?
Son:
This was kinda cool.
Still no fish. But… I get it.
Dad (smiling):
Told you—we’re catchin’ something.
