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, 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.
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:
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 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 outside of 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.
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Just a little something I found at another forum

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