[ WP ] Write a truly heartbreaking story that has a character speaking aloud the phrase `` My butt itches . ''

It was a normal Monday morning and there was a normal amount of traffic and he was a normal amount of depressed. His father sighed as they missed the light, he knew they were 1 minute behind schedule. He could n't think what to say; although he knew his father was going to go slightly faster when the light turned, he was afraid to point out the error. In his opinion, there would be a cop waiting to the right of the overpass waiting for them to pass under 200 yards beyond the light they were waiting at. He reflected on previous car rides and the arguments that ensued from a simple opinion, a debatable suggestion, even perhaps advice! He knew if he was wrong he risked the ensuing rant about knowledge and experience. He would be left to feel like a child and from a man who was too busy with his clients to attend most dinners. He shifted in his seat and swallowed, waiting to see the intensity the accelerator would be pressed upon the change. The cross walk ticked the digits away, 8 seconds next to the blinking hand. His father glanced at the perpendicular light shining green, 6 seconds, he closed his eyes and suppressed a comment, 4, an additional sigh, 3, a shift in the seat, 2, a slurp of coffee, 1, the hand is solid, the brake is released, they are off as the light changes. First ones through the intersection, they will definitely be noticeably too far over the speed limit once they reach the far side of the over pass. As they go under they are still accelerating. As they approach the end he can no longer hold it in, he only wants what is best, `` dad...'' is all he can get out. They are flooded with daylight again and as they both look to the right they both know. `` Sshhit!'' is all that is said. They had already entered the right lane and were preparing to move to the shoulder when the blue lights came on, better to get it over with to save the time. His father shifted his weight to the left and went to remove his wallet but something was wrong. His father looked around the car and then placed his hands on his forehead and released the largest sigh yet; he had forgotten his wallet. His father stayed silent as he grabbed the insurance card and registration from the glove compartment. He also took out his own wallet to get his own ID out, thinking proving one of their identities and ties to the car would be helpful. His father took all three, catching the gist and prepared for the proceeding officer. The story was simple, and went smooth, the officer smirked at the name on the id but it was hardly noticeable to the untrained eye. The officer suggested the licensed driver proceed so they switched and were let go with no hassle. 
 
 He checked his cell phone, they were way behind, and after this his son was not going to proceed with the haste that was needed. He knew that if they did n't catch every light and consistently drive 10 mph over the speed limit and his son took more than 1 minute exiting the car then he would be late. If his client was waiting he would not secure the contract. Without the contract, his sons collegiate future was in serious trouble. He loved the boy, he would do anything, he did do anything. He was pondering as the car merged back onto the road, he was pondering his existence. His existence, his current existence, was only for this boy, this man that he created. He reflected upon the days when his existence was his own, and then when it became his wife's, but now, now it was only for his son. The long hours, the late nights, the constant stress, the daily bickering, it was all for him, and it was all worth it. He was calm now, he was happy, he was with his son, and this was time he had not thought to enjoy in all the years they had shared it. 
 
 `` Boo... I mean... B. Have you thought about next year? Your mother and I only want what is best for you, but we need you to understand why it is best. Can you appreciate this?'' It was no good, he could tell he had started on the wrong foot. The body language was all wrong, this was not how he intended this conversation to go. `` What I mean is, it is your decision, that is the point. We, we wo n't force you to do anything, but you know what we think, and we hope our opinion holds value''. This was an improvement, his mouth was open, he was going to respond, the grip on the steering wheel was loosening, the red draining from the face. 
 
 `` I know dad, I understand. There's a lot of pressure you know?'' 
 
 `` I know son, there always will be, but you will be fine, you are strong, you always have been. Your mother and I think-'' 
 
 `` Dad, I know! I know what you and mom think, you have made that clear. I appreciate the sentiment of it being'my decision' but you must understand how difficult your making it for me to make my own decision when you are already forcing both of yours on me; and on me without question if I may add'' 
 
 `` what do you mean?'' 
 
 `` you have never even asked what I want to do, what my opinion is, you do n't even know that I do n't fully support you and mom's opinion, you've never asked, you've just assumed, you've always assumed. You're never around but you assume you know everything, not only what's best for me but also what I'm thinking.'' 
 
 `` I.. I'm sorry. I do n't'' -- -- - 
 
 They had entered the intersection without a second thought, as they reached the middle he looked towards his father as time stopped. No, not stopped, but, slowed. Each instant stretched the span of a minute... it was torture. He could see the car over his father's shoulder and he knew right away that the driver occupying had no idea he was running a red light. His eyes focused on the driver whose attention was diverted on the rear view mirror, no, a child mirror. One of those, rounded car viewing mirrors to mor easily observe those in the back seat without turning around. There was a child, crying, screaming. In the expanse of time that was lulling by he could see the boy was exasperated and the driver, the father was at his end but trying to get through to his upset baby, trying to settle a riot while making the morning commute on time. His eyes shifted to his father and he saw something, something for the first time. He saw his fathers age, not his true age, but the age he appeared. He appeared older than he should, worn and, in a way, defeated. He knew he was wrong about the man, he knew he was a stupid, ungrateful child. He knew this man loved him more than anything in the universe and he knew their relationship was about to change into that of a happy and stable father and son. He loved his father, he always had, but he now understood what that meant. As this final appreciation completed wrapping itself around his brain the impact began. He knew right away this would change every single aspect of his life, he was going to lose this man, this man he just discovered he loved and respected beyond anything less than a millisecond ago. Time caught up, it now seemed to be correcting itself for the slowness, it was impossible to tell what was even happening, he could only make out distant sounds of pain and destruction. 
 
 His eyes were already open when he regained consciousness. His father was staring at him with a look of agony, the man was covered in blood. He could tell by the angle that his head was awkwardly slumped on the seat but he could n't move, could n't feel anything, he could hear the sobs of agony as his father gasped for breath. His father was staring at him, he was saying his name, his full name that he asked them never to use. He sat there thinking about this and thinking how he did n't care, He only wanted to repeat the sentiment that followed it back to his father, he wanted to tell him he loved him to. His fathers eyes filled with tears, he expressed his feelings of pride, and happiness, and once again, for the last time, his love for the boy. Everything faded, it was all too much.
