Testy
A faux pas on a father's part inevitably doesn't help any chaos.

Victoria's class tutor had evidently caught the older of her two fathers at a bad time; if the unkempt nature of his beige shirt and the large stacks of paper surrounding him hadn't given it away, the tense nature of his voice as he muttered "What the hell is it now?" into the phone more than made up for it.
Said tutor still remained unaffected by this. "Mr Fancyson-Tentacles, I'm afraid there's something wrong with your daughter. She appears to be—"

"Oh yeah?" snapped Squidward, his fuse long since reduced to a stub. "There's something wrong with your daughter! If these papers I'm supposed to be sorting out for the husband are telling me correctly, your daughter is draining our budget by constantly selling us crap we don't need and I suspect she's sneaking into the mansion to steal the stuff back from us in order to sell them to us again because she needs the money to buy a dress or whatthefuckever! Ergo, I don't have time for your crap right now because I have to keep tabs on what's in the inventory and what isn't, and we have a huge freaking house with a lot of inventory to keep tabs on! So next time you phone to say our daughter has something wrong with her try taking care of your teenage delinquent first!"

"Um… Mr Tentacles, we're not comparing daughters," continued the voice on the other end. "I'm just saying that yours is running around like a hyper madwoman bouncing on invisible walls."
The disgruntled cephalopod only muttered "oy vey" before calling out to the probable culprit. "Squill, did you give our daughter breakfast from the sugar-junk-food supply room again?"