and now for the rest of the story...
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 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.