We're going to put a stop to this camping business right now. Before it gets out of hand. You pitch a tent on the roof, claim you like sleeping closer to the angels – it's bullshit. You don't like sleeping near your family. Their crooked eyes and bad taste in bedding shame you. You don't like the way they walk.
You made them! That's you, that's your disfigurement, passed on towards the horizon. Feel it! Drape as many damp paper towels over their faces before the census man comes, it won't matter. Man sit down next your wife and eat that waffle. Eat it! I'm here to watch!
You sleep on that roof looking for a cure. High altitude. Thin tent. Those cosmic rays won't bake your DNA. They won't do shit! You'll get a rash and then still be out of work.
Don't start up about no shingle love, either. Keep those out of your mouth.