My Father

I was in my parents’ garage, with my father and his dog. I was fresh from my first semester at college and still practicing all the disgusting habits that I had learned there. I reached my hand up, index finger extended, and began rummaging around inside of my nose. I pulled out a booger, nothing too offensive. I flicked it to the ground, just as my father saw what I was doing.
“Hey, wipe that on the dog, like the rest of us.”