The only reason I’m happy about forgiving Ryan is because it makes me the better man. And I like knowing I’m better than little punks who aren’t afraid of me. Seriously, is anything more annoying than a kid you can’t put the fear of God into? That’s the problem with kids today. Their parents let them do whatever they want, then they beat a bloody video game or two, have a stare-down with some other brain-dead brat with a crooked haircut at the mall and suddenly nothing terrifies them anymore.
I was terrified of adults growing up. You know why? Because I was a good kid. And I was a good kid because adults scared me. Ryan? No fear. Ergo, delinquent. Like that smug singing he pulled in church…he thinks he can get away with it just because he thinks he’s some sort of performer. You don’t hone your gospel pipes at the Renaissance Faire, hippy. He’s lucky there were plenty of witnesses around because I was ready to give him a Black and Blue Christmas for that one.
Now, Kyle…there’s a guy who’s sufficiently fearful of his girlfriend’s father. Although I would like to address the elephant in the room: Why didn’t he ask for my permission to marry Kristin before he pulled the trigger? For a minute there I was thinking I might have to pull a trigger of my own. Obviously as things turned out it didn’t matter, but I think I deserve the honor of crushing Kyle’s dreams before my daughter does. It’s my raison d’etre: destroying the boys who dare look at my daughters.
If you’re reading this, Ed, I’m pretty aggravated and hostile…maybe we can film next year’s holiday video blog right now. Eh, who am I kidding. You’re knee-deep in a baby pool of egg nog by now.