Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may
glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything
below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands
off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys
of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they
appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take
this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are
complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open
minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise:
You may come to the door with your underwear showing
and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not
object. However, In order to ensure that your clothes
do not, in fact, come off during the course of your
date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun
and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex
without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can
kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am
the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
In order for us to get to know each other, we should
talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the
day. Please do not do this. The only information I
require from you is an indication of when you expect to
have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only
word I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many
opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me
as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once
you have gone out with my little girl, you will
continue to date no one but her until she is finished
with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my
daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do
not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the
movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting
on her makeup, a process that can take longer than
painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just
standing there, why don't you do something useful, like
changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date
with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas,
or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where
there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within
eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where
there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places
where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce
my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts,
or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and
a goose down parka zipped up to her throat. Movies with
a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided;
movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games
are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied,
balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues
relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing,
merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you
are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me
the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I
have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me
to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a
chopper coming in over a rice paddy outside of Hanoi.
When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my
head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for
you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into
the driveway you should exit your car with both hands
in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce
in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home
safely and early, then return to your car-----there is no
need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
| Curly David's Happy Hour |
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