If you pull into my driveway and honk
you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure
not picking anything up.
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.
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.
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.
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".
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.
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?
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.
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.
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 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.