Dad: Emily! Will you come in to the living room?


Emily: What is it, Dad?
Dad: We need to have a talk. It's about Clifford.
Emily: Is everything okay?
Dad: I'm afraid not. We may have to put Clifford down.
Emily: No, Daddy! Why?
Dad: Clifford is very sick, Emily, it's very obvious.
Emily: But I love Clifford.
Dad: We all love Clifford. But his vomitting is wildly out of control. All of the grass in our yard is dead because of it. Clifford's diarhea is impossible to clean up, I'm sure you've noticed. It's enough to fill a regular sized pool.
Emily: But-
Dad: You can smell it from blocks away.
Emily: We can move again.
Dad: We already moved after Clifford attacked that woman.
Emily: But you said Clifford just wanted to make babies.
Dad: I was trying to protect you. That woman could have died. Clifford's penis is nine feet long.
Emily: Maybe we could enter him in some kind of contest.
Dad: No, Emi- You think we haven't tried that? You think- I'm sorry, I don't want to lose my temper right now.
Emily: …
Dad: It's just that, Emily, I'm working three jobs just to give Clifford enough food to stay alive. We moved out of town to give Clifford more room and now I sit in traffic for an hour every day on the way to work. This isn't how I imagined my life, Emily.
Emily: What about Clifford?
Dad: What about me God damnit. Do you know how many bones of our neighbors' pets I've had to bury in our woods? Clifford is a violent dog.
Emily: I won't let you hurt Clifford!
Dad: Oh so now you're telling me what to do? I'm trying to do what's humane, Emily. But if you stand in my way, so help me God I will go Atticus Finch on that f*cking dog.
Emily: You're a monster!
Dad: Are you out of your mind? You have a GINORMOUS red dog living in my yard and I'm the monster?