Wednesday, August 3, 2005

Livin' With Evils's - Volume 3

So here is a more in depth look at what it is like to be the wild animal trainer of a very over developed, just about to be a, teenager. We have discussed this phylum before “Boycrazius Lazius” and we have code named her “Big Evil” for those of you who haven’t been keeping up. Now it is not easy being a parent to begin with, much less a single father with two girls, but it is even harder when the shocking reality that the mother of your daughter has a predetermined history behind her. 7 generations long, to be exact, where as every woman … mother … grandmother … great grandmother … great great … ad nausea, have all had their first child at the age of 15. It’s a sad occurrence that I have to deal with the time honored tradition of “Virginity Defender”, as this has been a total failure for … well 8 generations of fathers before me. Did I fail to mention that all of their first born were women too?

Now I have looked through the archives of the many failed “Virginity Defenders” before me and I have noted a definite pattern, first of all being neglect. Check … I got that one down, and the second being way too easy. I fortunately do not fit that mold. As you see I happen to be a very very very aggressive male. Let me bring you back about 7 years to when my daughter was in the first grade for an example. It was the school bully (you know the boy who stays back twice until he is much bigger than the other kids, as well as neglected and stupid) who brought out a new strategy in my parenting skills, and this note might help the rest of you in this endeavor as “Virginity Defender”.

My daughter was terrified to go to school you see and after some loving encouragement from her dear old dad (threatening, and yelling a lot) she brought it to my attention that this charming young lad (retard with ADHD and thick skin from home abuse) was being rather hard to get along with at school (kept pulling her hair, and pulling her off the swing set), so I was forced to ask the school principal for a face to face. Upon having this face to face conference with the boys parents, they were hard pressed to offer viable solutions to the problem (told me kids will be kids and my daughter should just get over it) so I offered up a solution of my own to rectify this unfortunate situation (put my finger three inches from the fathers nose and told him the next time my daughter came home crying, I was coming over to his house and beating HIM half to death) which we both found acceptable. Now mind you the principal was in shock, but I was the biggest hit at the PTA meetings since this holy terror left EVERYONE alone after that. You see, it’s only necessary to assess the situation and deal with it accordingly.

So back to my job as “Virginity Defender” it’s really simple so far. I keep a good fear of GOD and ME in every boy that ever meets my daughter. I chaperoned a school dance in a muscle shirt and stared at every boy menacingly, on several occasions. Being the town psychopath growing up has had it’s advantages too you see, as I have often been able to tell these fine young men to ask their parents about me. They tend not to call back afterwards, but the few that do always get the favorite “Virginity Defender” tactic of showing up at the door to have to sit down at the kitchen table and have a chat with me, when they come to see my daughter.

It’s all in the way you chat really. I have this large black sharpening stone and a pile of big nasty looking African knives that I sharpen really slowly, while I chat with the lads. Make sure you never break eye contact, and try to drool a little. Should they actually find it necessary to come back again, you repeat these steps only with a basket of apples. Use the apples as props as you explain to the boys how close they are allowed to sit to your daughter, but don’t forget that when they get to the point of touching, CRASH THE KNIFE YOU ARE SHARPENING RIGHT THROUGH THE APPLE THAT MOVED IN! Then of course offer the half of apple to the young man. Keep in mind that at no point do your eyes leave his.

For those of you that really know the whole story, my oldest daughter is not biologically mine. I adopted her from her real father who was my ex-wife’s first husband. She came to live with me BEFORE the other two did, because she couldn’t take living with her mother anymore in Maine. She moved to Ballston Spa New York with me, and when it was necessary to go get custody of the other two from her mother she was there with me every step of the way. As a matter of fact her strength through it all was the guiding light that made it all possible, as I was taking on her mother and the entire Communist Government of Maine, but in the end, her and her daddy won. So I am hoping that the sight of what she had to go through because of her mother just might be enough to keep me from having to be too violent with her boyfriends. But she said I could if I want to, because she loves me. ;8o)