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 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 to
big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure
that your clothes do no, in fact come off during the
course of you 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:
It is usually understood that 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 than 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 is darkness. Places where there
is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the
ambient temperature is warm enough to introduce 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
near 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 driveways you should exit the 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.
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