Brady: And then Ma pulls out that li'l umbrella of hers, and she says—
Father: Heh heh...
Brady: ...What are ya laughing for? I ain't even at the punchline yet.
Father: I'm just glad we're able to talk like this, Brady. I'll admit, I was kind of shocked when I first saw you. You seemed a bit...scary.
Brady: Yeah, well. Sorry I'm all scary. I guess if you don't like it, do a better job raising the real deal.
Father: What, you mean the Brady from this era?
Brady: Yeah. I ain't your real son, anyway. I mean, not exactly.
Father: ...... Brady, I...
Brady: Aw, what? What's with that face? I don't need no pity. Unlike some of the other kids, I ain't jealous of the Brady from this timeline. We're two different cats, yeah? No hard feelings. Once the real one's born, you can forget about me. I'll bow out all graceful-like.
Father: Brady, how can you say that after we've gotten so close? You think I'd just cast you aside once my son is born? I would never do that. You're my friend, Brady. ...And my son.
Brady: Pop, I... *sniff* Aw, damn. I'd decided not to cry, but then ya go and say crap like that... *sniffle* I was lyin' about what I said before, Pop! It does matter to me! Please don't forget me! Just...remember that we were good pals once, yeah? Real chums.
Father: I could never forget you, Son. I'll remember you till the day I die and love you as my future self would...
Brady: Okay, no more talk of dyin'. If you go boots up before me, I'll douse your grave in more tea than ya can stand. I'll play my violin and do a backflip if I have to. Don't try me, old-timer!
Father: Well then it's settled. Guess your pop can't very well die now, can he?