Bicycle Bully

At the park:

Joey: Can I have a turn? Can I have a turn? Can I have a turn?

Silas (sheepishly): Um, I don't think I even know you.

Joey (stepping in front of the bike, grabbing the handle bars, shouting): I AM JOEY AND I AM FOUR YEARS OLD. I AM A BIG BOY!

Silas (not sure what to say to that):

Joey: C'mon, lemme have a turn.

Joey's mom (disinterestedly in the distance, before returning to her cell phone conversation): Joey, he may not want you to ride his bike.

Joey (undaunted, still holding fast to the handlebars): Can I have a turn? Can I have a turn? Can I have a turn?

Silas: But this is my Christmas bike.

Joey (contorting unnaturally, eyes glowing red, whiny pitch increasing to nearly unbearable levels): Puhleeeze? I'll bring it right back.

Silas: Well, OK. But only one lap.

Joey (shoving Silas off the bike and scampering aboard, flailing at the peddles before finally finding traction and speeding off):

(This is where "thank you" should've entered the conversation.)

Dad and Silas stand still, looking at their respective feet, listening to annoying cackling of Joey's indifferent mom, who's still engrossed in her cell phone conversation.

Dad: Thanks for sharing, Silas. That was nice of you.

Silas: When are we going to get the bike back?

Dad: I don't know, boy. I don't know. You want to go swing on the swings?