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 too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your
clothes do not, infact 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 barrrier, 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 tool. 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.
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 camoflaged face at the window is mine.
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