(Sound of reaching for chips in a plastic bag, a match being lit, and a smoker taking puffs. Son opens door, home from a vacation, the Dad doesn't getting up to greet him.)
Son: Hey Dad! (Dad coughs on the weed from startlement) Are you OK?
Dad: (recovered but out of breath) I'm fine, I just didn't think you'd be home so early.
Son: Wait, are you?... You're just eating falafel balls out of a bag!
Dad: Anything wrong with that?
Son: No... But can you open a window at least? The house wreaks of pot!
Dad: This is the fourth century, there are no windows.
Dad: I know we talked about my not smoking weed in the house, but I thought you wouldn't be home until prima noctis hora, so I figured there was time to air out the house. Besides, don't you Christians preach all that forgiveness shit?
Son: It's OK. Father Theodosius says I need to work on forgiving you more.
Dad: That idiot is absolutely right!
Son: Don't you want to hear about my vacation?!
Dad: You'll tell me all about it anyway.
Son: Oh it was so amazing! Our youth group leader took us to the oldest baptistry chapel in the Byzantine Empire! It was fifty years old!
Dad: (bored) Sounds amazing.
Son: It had a painting of Jesus healing the paralytic at Capaernum.
Dad: Healing the what?
Son: I told you about that! Jesus made a crippled man walk!
Dad: Oh, that's right!
Son: And a painting of the three Marys at the tomb of Jesus!
Dad: Three what?
Son: Three Mary's!
Dad: Three women? All named Mary?
Dad: I mean... don't you think it's a little weird?
Dad: ...That they all had the same name?
Son: No... (considering) Not really... (faith comes back to him) No!
Dad: You ever get to thinking that there's a slight chance that there was only one Mary, and people got confused because the story got told so many times?
Son: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Dad: Who were these Mary's?
Son: Mary, mother of Jesus.
Dad: OK, so far, so good.
Son: Mary Magdalene, the
Dad: This whole Jesus thing of yours is really obnoxious.
Son: Well we can't all get satisfaction out of going a million pedes (Latin for footsteps) out of our way to every music festival from us! Didn't you go to one last year where they burned some guy alive?
Dad: Come on. I had to go to Burning Man at least once.