his daughter...
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk, you'd better be delivering a
package, because you're sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter. 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 look like slovenly idiots. Still, I want to be
fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose his 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 use my electric nail
gun to 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 with my daughter, 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. She 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 feature chainsaws are okay. Hockey games are
okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a pot-bellied, balding,
middle-aged, dim-witted has-been. But on issues relating to my
daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless arbiter 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 thirty acres behind the barn. 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 in Vietnam. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the
voices in my head frequently tell me to clean my 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.
Have a nice date with my daughter...
