Sugar, We're Going Down Swinging. :/
So my father is really taken with the idea of Personal Safety. Nice man, great dad, but super paranoid. For reals, guys. He gave me a self-protection/emergency manual called "Tough Target" for my sixteenth birthday. And my house is practically Fort Knox. Alarm systems, motion detectors, double locks, dead bolts, door-chains, rabid guard-bunnies, trolls - our house has got it all. He's also got this horrible habit of sending me those forwarded "THIS COULD HAPPEN TO YOU" emails about safety and rape and people hiding in back seats of cars. They terrify me.
"It's all about being a tough target. The good guys don't win them all, but
there's no need not to go down swinging....."xoxoxoDad
Body:
"PUT YOUR CAR KEYS BESIDE YOUR BED AT NIGHT
If you hear a noise outside your home or someone trying to get into your
house, just press the panic button for your car. The alarm will be set off
and the horn will continue to sound until either you turn it off or the car
battery dies."
For reals, Dad? Are you telling me that I'm going to get murdered in my sleep because my car is nowhere near my actual bedside table? I mean, I can't even go down swinging now, I'm just goin' down. Horribly. In a pool of blood. Because I live in an apartment.
Maybe I should sleep in a giant panic room, instead. That way, I just close the triple-reinforced steel doors and then hit the giant red PANIC button, causing the entire thing to shoot away into the sky like the Great Glass Elevator and take me to the nearest police station/hospital.
Sometimes I think my Father stays up at night, cleaning his gun (with optional night scope!!) and thinking of horrible ways we could all die. Really. I mean. Ugh. I'm all squicky inside and wondering if he's a CIA/NSA agent or something. Maybe Dick Cheney is my grandpa and I don't even know it.
"It's all about being a tough target. The good guys don't win them all, but
there's no need not to go down swinging....."xoxoxoDad
Body:
"PUT YOUR CAR KEYS BESIDE YOUR BED AT NIGHT
If you hear a noise outside your home or someone trying to get into your
house, just press the panic button for your car. The alarm will be set off
and the horn will continue to sound until either you turn it off or the car
battery dies."
For reals, Dad? Are you telling me that I'm going to get murdered in my sleep because my car is nowhere near my actual bedside table? I mean, I can't even go down swinging now, I'm just goin' down. Horribly. In a pool of blood. Because I live in an apartment.
Maybe I should sleep in a giant panic room, instead. That way, I just close the triple-reinforced steel doors and then hit the giant red PANIC button, causing the entire thing to shoot away into the sky like the Great Glass Elevator and take me to the nearest police station/hospital.
Sometimes I think my Father stays up at night, cleaning his gun (with optional night scope!!) and thinking of horrible ways we could all die. Really. I mean. Ugh. I'm all squicky inside and wondering if he's a CIA/NSA agent or something. Maybe Dick Cheney is my grandpa and I don't even know it.