You are forced to focus your vast intellect on your father, who is standing at the table. He has his hairy fingers poised over the fudge. Your fudge. You're about to protest, but you can't actually remember where it came from. Perhaps it is your father's after all, and that means that complaining will only cause him to take the plate of treats upstairs with him when he returns to his den of sports and frivolity. You need those delicacies to power a rather long session of MTH: The RPG you have in mind, one that will last long into the night.
You father grabs a piece, munching on it, when a strange looks washes over his face. It looks like the face he seems to get whenever he asks you about 'what the hell you did all day' and you respond with detailed accounts of anime episodes and reddit threads. Confusion, to put it simply. "There's something about this fudge," he mumbles, grabbing another piece. "It reminds me of something..." Your father sets down his beer cans with a metallic clank, and helps himself to another piece. And another. Soon, he stops, raising his hands to his face while staring at you intently.
"Marty...? I... I remember...." Curses, you think with disdain, he's already drunk. Leftover fudge is the least of your worries now. Who knows if he'll even be able to get up and leave your domain, the hallowed basement where you do your best thinking. You hold up your campaign supplement book between fat fingers, flipping through them to distract yourself. Perhaps if you design a unicorn, by the time it's finished, your father will have gotten up to leave. Instead, he's staring at his hands, mystified. You're not that surprised -- if your father was as smart as you were, he would know the value of anime and the worthlessness of sports. In fact, your own intellect is quite magnificent -- your name is hallowed with only the most premium of flairs on /r/MTHtheRPG. Other redditors tremble when they see your clout within the community. You tip your fedora back in self-congratulation. How someone like that was able to raise such a legendary gentleman is beyond you.
He's still staring, you realise. "Marty, it's me, Dirk." You shrug. "Yes, and?" You father tilts his head in confusion, his puffy cheeks drawn into a frown. "Don't you recognize me?" You are getting impatient. You sit up in your chair, crumbs falling from your meaty thighs. You feel a breeze on your hairy crack, but can't worry about that now. You have to show your father that you don't have time for these foolish games. You have art to create, masterful stories illustrated using your palette of ponies and pegacorns. You fold your arms against your gelatinous chest. "Of course I recognize you. You are my father, Dirk, and have been since I can remember. Now if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to return to my game." But he shakes his head, not giving up. "I'm not your dad Marty, I'm your friend! We went to high school together. After this summer, we were maybe going to go to university together, too." Seeing your indifference, he gestures wildly at the table. "We played the My Tiny Horse roleplaying game together. Remember?"
Although your father was clearly senselessly drunk, at least his small mind finally allowed him to recognize the beauty of Equinekind. Perhaps you should reward this moment of clarity with a few more moments of your precious time. You sip your Mountain Dew and wave a hand, allowing him to proceed. "I brought back those dice and that fudge from the carnival... I guess the dice made me into your dad, and I forgot who I was for a minute there. But this fudge made me remember, it cleared the fog away. I can still remember all kinds of dad stuff," he says, a look of mild disgust on his face, "but I remember hanging out with you too. Don't you remember any of that Marty? Don't you remember your best friend?" You lost interest partway through his speech. You were hoping he would ask you for MTH trivia or maybe want to watch the first season on DVD. You just shrug. "You're mistaken, father," you say. "Perhaps you should turn in for the night."
Dirk stands and...