We Thrive On Confusion

Today, when my dad came up for dinner, he complained that our timing could be better, as he was missing the last five minutes of an old show called "Wagon Train." As dinner is ready when it's ready and if he doesn't like it he can learn to cook for himself, my mom and I proceeded to confuse the hell out of him:

Me: Oh, well, I know what happened, anyway.
Dad: You've watched that show?
Me: No, but I know what happened: their ox died.
Dad: They don't have oxen on this show, they just have horses.
Mom: And then they got cholera.
Me: No, it's dysentery. You have died of dysentery. Do they ever have to ford rivers on this show? Because we all know that never goes well.
Mom: You lose fifty pounds of food every damn time.
Me: And all your wagon axles.
Mom: Oh, that's right, I forgot about the axles.
Me: Your wagon just sank.
Mom: And your ox just died.
Dad: *gives us both the baffled look of a man who has never played Oregon Trail*