George Bronson spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate.
"So," he asked his teenage son, Brad, "how did it go in school today?"
"Fine," Brad said.
"ACTUALLY," said a tinny voice, "HE FAILED TWO QUIZZES, SPENT HIS LUNCH MONEY ON TWIZZLERS AND WAS SHOVED INSIDE A LOCKER BY A BULLY."
"What was that?" Brad demanded.
"Fact-checker," said his father. "We just subscribed for a six-month trial offer."
"You're kidding."
"The last election demonstrated how important it to have fact-checkers when candidates are lying," George explained. "Now a company has figured out how to sell fact-checking programs to workplaces and private households."
"It's for your own good, darling," said Brad's mother, Marjorie.
"It stinks!" Brad said. "I don't want some fact-checker spying on me!"
"Now, Brad," Marjorie said soothingly, "you know we respect your privacy."
"ACTUALLY," said the voice, "YOU WERE ROOTING UNDER HIS MATTRESS THIS MORNING AND FOUND A STACK OF HUSTLER MAGAZINES AND CIGARETTES."
"I-I …" she stammered. "I was just making the bed."
"YOU HAVEN'T MADE A BED IN 10 YEARS," said the voice. "YOUR HOUSE LOOKS LIKE A PIG STY."
She flushed and said, "Well, since we're on the subject, how long have you been smoking, Brad?"
"I was holding them for a friend!"
The voice cleared its throat.
"OK, I smoke! But you shouldn't be snooping in my room!"
"It was the first time."
"REALLY, MARGIE."
