Here's how that conversation would actually go.
"Hey honey, which system should we get for our kids?" Mother asked
"Well, this one has eight RAM instead of four, so it's probably better." Father replied.
"What does that even mean? Oh, let's just get this one, it has Halo and I know Billy loves the halos." Mother picked up the Xbox packaging, but Father stood in place, unmoving as a mountain.
"Honey, what's wrong?" Mother looked uncomfortably at her husband, who had begun shaking somewhat. Father muttered something under his breath. "What's that, sweetie?"
"Eight..." Father's mumbling was more audible this time. "Eight gigabytes." Mother didn't understand, but began worrying as he started salivating. Slowly his gaze turned towards her. His eyes were bloodshot - no, it was more than that. They had become totally red, and cried tears of blood. Mother screamed in terror, and began to run, but he was faster.
"EIGHT GIGABYTES," he screamed, his voice joined by what sounded like a choir of demons. His clawed hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed tightly. "EIGHT GIGABYTES OF RAAAAAAAM." Mother's face began turning blue from asphyxiation as three armed guards pulled Father's hands from her neck and handcuffed him. She collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, tears streaming down her face at the sight of her possessed husband. As the police dragged him away, he just kept laughing, shrieking unintelligble nonsense, the only discernable phrase: "eight gigabytes."