PETER: Hey yeah, that’s okay. I don’t have a dad.
WENDY: I’m sorry. At least you only have one parent to deal with.
PETER: I don’t have a mother.
WENDY: Oh, I’m so sorry.
PETER: Don’t be. It’s actually pretty nice. I don’t have to worry about them telling me what
to do or who to be.
WENDY: Nice. I’m supposed to go into pre-law. Which is fun, I guess.
PETER: Yeah! You get to be a lawyer! Wo-hoo! Of course, few have ever taken up piracy
willingly. I assume it wasn’t your first choice?
WENDY: Yeah, well, try explaining to the assistant-manager at the world’s smallest branch
of a major banking corporation that his daughter wants to be a novelist. With a letter to
Stanford in hand and a crazy law scholarship.
PETER: Ouch. I can see your predicament.
WENDY: Now, don’t get me wrong—I love my parents and I wouldn’t change them for the
world.
PETER: Hence, college. Time to fly the coup.
WENDY: Well, kinda. I don’t know. I’m so lost.
Peter: Lost? Miss Stanford?
WENDY: Sounds pretty crazy, doesn’t it? You seem pretty much set . . . to do what? Flip
burgers? Change oil?
PETER: Give hang-gliding tours?
WENDY: Nice. Anyway, you’re all set for a happy life of expectable poverty, whereas “little
miss Stanford” here’s got herself lots of pressure . . . Social pressure . . . Cheating boyfriend
pressure . . . Parent pressure . . . You get me?
PETER: I understand. Well, not really. You see, when I was little I decided never to grow
up, and I just kinda liked the idea and stuck with it.
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