Daddy's Girl

My fifteen year-old daughter, Marie, just recently became a cheerleader in the high school she attends, and, while I am truly proud, I must say I have some problems with how I--as her overly protective father--might react at one of her games.
     "What are YOU looking at?" I might say at the very first football game I go to with her cheering her team on.  "Keep your eyes on the game, buddy, and off the cheerleaders."
     "But how can I sell these hot dogs, sir, if my eyes are on the game?"
     "Don't get smart with me. buddy!  I'll hit you so hard your unborn children will cry!"
     "...y...yessir..."
     "That's right, everybody keeps their eyes on the field and nobody gets hurt.  The game's where the action's at.  Hey, you!  Yeah, you!  Think dressing in black makes you look cool?  Think I won't notice you eyeballing the cheerleaders?  If I have to come down to where you're at you're going to be in a world of pain, mister!  A WORLD of pain!  Got it?"
     "Mr. Duchene, don't you remember me?  I'm Father Sarducci, the pastor of your church."
     "I don't care  if you're the yellow M&M guy from my candy dish!  If I catch you looking at my little girl one more time I'm gonna ex-communicate you with my foot!"
     "...y...yessir..."
     "Marie!  Put on that mumu I gave you!"
     "Da-aad!  You're embarrassing me."
     "Just put on that mumu, and...  Hey, you!  Don't act like you can't see me."
     "But I can't see you, sir.  I'm blind."
     "If you're so blind, then what are you doing at a football game?  Yeah, I thought so.  Eyes on the field, everybody.  Eyes on the field.  Marie, I don't see you in that mumu!"
     "Da-aad!  You're embarrassing me."
     "I said PUT IT ON!"
     "Uh, Mr. Duchene..."
     "What do you want?"
     "Um, you're creating a bit of a disturbance here.  I have to ask you to leave."
     "Are you looking at the cheerleaders?"
     "What?"
     "I said, are YOU looking at the cheerleaders?"
     "No, sir.  I'm looking at you.  You have to leave."
     "Me?  Leave?  What did I do?"
     "You've only threatened to beat up everyone here at the game.  Up to, and including, my father."
     "That dirty old man?  He deserved it, the way he was ogling the cheerleading squad."
     "Mr. Duchene, my father is NINETY-EIGHT years old!"
     "So what?  He's still a man."
     "Mr. Duchene, don't make me forcibly kick you out."
     "Oh, yeah?  You and what army?"
     Someone taps me on the shoulder.  I look around and dang if there isn't an army there to forcibly kick me out.
     "Well, Mr. Duchene...  are you going to leave without further incident?"
     "...y...yessir..."
     I leave, and everybody is finally able to enjoy the game.  And then:
     "ATTENTION!  ATTENTION, EVERYBODY!" the sound system announces.  "EVERYBODY...  KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE FIELD!  AND, MARIE, I DON'T SEE YOU WEARING THAT MUMU!"
     "Da-aad!"
 
 

Fifty Shades of Funny

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