Haha?
Nothing says "I Love You” like statutory rape.
Well, nothing except shooting your teenaged girlfriend’s parents in their goddamned Puritanical noggins. Now that is romantic. Most fourteen-year old girls these days just want to share a milkshake at the ice cream parlour, or have you pinky swear to only fucking them in the dirthole, so they don’t have to worry about commiting popularity suicide by showing up to Home Economics with that telltale Backseat Baby Bulge. But that just wouldn’t do for a girl of such pedigree as Kara Beth Borden.
And exactly how do you win the graces of a flaxen-haired teenage maiden who lists
"JESUS!!,"
"church,"
"my youth group" and
"hugging"
ss her primary interests on her MySpace profile? By quoting Leviticus in reverse, while mowing the front lawn wearing a sandwhich board with "Pro-Choice is Pro-Death” slathered in fetus blood on the front and back? Or by carving "700 Club Ru1Z 4eVa and Kara iz 500p3r4aWt” into the foreheads of a dozen dead Mexican fence-jumpers entwined in barbed wire on the Texas border? Maybe just an offer to teach Vacation Bible School’s popsicle-stick Ark building class? But with none of that Commie state-sponsored Elmer’s Glue - oh no, but some self-donated All-Protestant Man Cement to help the kiddies realize their 1/35th scale version of Noah’s apocalyptic dream? Nah, nah, nah. 18-year-old David Ludwig realized he was going to have to work for this girl. That it was going to take a Hallmark moment.
David realized that the quickest way to a 14-year-old girl’s heart was straight through the two-inch exit wound on the back of her mommy’s skull.
Now that's love. Well, that and Subway. Apparently he went and picked her up a nice 12-inch Italian Sub afterwards. What a sweetheart. I wonder how salt, pepper, vinegar, and oil go along with skull fragments. I mean, I’ve always been a peppercini man, but I bet even Jered woulda flaked on his "I’m eating six inch turkey subs so that random Leather Daddies will deep-mine my asshole at random Rest Stops” diet to get a bite of Parmesan Oregano sprinkled with Daddy’s grey matter. I bet Kara’s got something going through her mind right now that goes something kinda like this:
"They never taught this in Sunday School.”
"But that sandwich WAS really good.”
Which brings us to this:
Dad: Next time little Jenny, or Kara, or Sandy, hell even Laquisha says she wants to go out Sunday night, riddle me this: Is your daughter’s "theoretically" untouched hymen really worth a .357 hollowpoint to your own temple? Times are a changin’. It’s the age of motherfucking Aquarius, bitch, and you might want to invest in a Kevlar vest before you go try the whole antiquated Tough-Love routine. Just watch CNN. The way things have been going recently, there’s probably been more scoring going on in your daughter’s Junior League Softball team’s locker room than on the diamond. Yeah, sure, you may be cheering your daughter on to home while you sit in the rusted bleachers, but it’s not the same reason her teammates are screaming her name.
Or maybe it is. You sick fuck.
Point is, next time your Little Princess’s boyfriend shows up, just remember that bulge in his pants may not be his overactive sex drive, but rather the manifestation of his deep, preordained Calvinist conviction that he is her One and only True Love, second only to Christ, and that you are simply in the motherfucking way. And for all you know, he may be right. Don’t fuck with the Jesus.
Oh yeah, Thomas: Thanks for the missing person APB. Nothing like waking up from a hangover to hear that your face is plastered on the homepage. But no hard feelings. You got a daughter, don’t you? So 10 years from now, when I invite you out on that hunting trip, don’t plead like a little bitch when you’re on your knees in the mud. Just remember, I’m doing this for love. I’m doing this for God.
And really, it’s gonna suck walking back through the forest to the car alone
Well, nothing except shooting your teenaged girlfriend’s parents in their goddamned Puritanical noggins. Now that is romantic. Most fourteen-year old girls these days just want to share a milkshake at the ice cream parlour, or have you pinky swear to only fucking them in the dirthole, so they don’t have to worry about commiting popularity suicide by showing up to Home Economics with that telltale Backseat Baby Bulge. But that just wouldn’t do for a girl of such pedigree as Kara Beth Borden.
And exactly how do you win the graces of a flaxen-haired teenage maiden who lists
"JESUS!!,"
"church,"
"my youth group" and
"hugging"
ss her primary interests on her MySpace profile? By quoting Leviticus in reverse, while mowing the front lawn wearing a sandwhich board with "Pro-Choice is Pro-Death” slathered in fetus blood on the front and back? Or by carving "700 Club Ru1Z 4eVa and Kara iz 500p3r4aWt” into the foreheads of a dozen dead Mexican fence-jumpers entwined in barbed wire on the Texas border? Maybe just an offer to teach Vacation Bible School’s popsicle-stick Ark building class? But with none of that Commie state-sponsored Elmer’s Glue - oh no, but some self-donated All-Protestant Man Cement to help the kiddies realize their 1/35th scale version of Noah’s apocalyptic dream? Nah, nah, nah. 18-year-old David Ludwig realized he was going to have to work for this girl. That it was going to take a Hallmark moment.
David realized that the quickest way to a 14-year-old girl’s heart was straight through the two-inch exit wound on the back of her mommy’s skull.
Now that's love. Well, that and Subway. Apparently he went and picked her up a nice 12-inch Italian Sub afterwards. What a sweetheart. I wonder how salt, pepper, vinegar, and oil go along with skull fragments. I mean, I’ve always been a peppercini man, but I bet even Jered woulda flaked on his "I’m eating six inch turkey subs so that random Leather Daddies will deep-mine my asshole at random Rest Stops” diet to get a bite of Parmesan Oregano sprinkled with Daddy’s grey matter. I bet Kara’s got something going through her mind right now that goes something kinda like this:
"They never taught this in Sunday School.”
"But that sandwich WAS really good.”
Which brings us to this:
Dad: Next time little Jenny, or Kara, or Sandy, hell even Laquisha says she wants to go out Sunday night, riddle me this: Is your daughter’s "theoretically" untouched hymen really worth a .357 hollowpoint to your own temple? Times are a changin’. It’s the age of motherfucking Aquarius, bitch, and you might want to invest in a Kevlar vest before you go try the whole antiquated Tough-Love routine. Just watch CNN. The way things have been going recently, there’s probably been more scoring going on in your daughter’s Junior League Softball team’s locker room than on the diamond. Yeah, sure, you may be cheering your daughter on to home while you sit in the rusted bleachers, but it’s not the same reason her teammates are screaming her name.
Or maybe it is. You sick fuck.
Point is, next time your Little Princess’s boyfriend shows up, just remember that bulge in his pants may not be his overactive sex drive, but rather the manifestation of his deep, preordained Calvinist conviction that he is her One and only True Love, second only to Christ, and that you are simply in the motherfucking way. And for all you know, he may be right. Don’t fuck with the Jesus.
Oh yeah, Thomas: Thanks for the missing person APB. Nothing like waking up from a hangover to hear that your face is plastered on the homepage. But no hard feelings. You got a daughter, don’t you? So 10 years from now, when I invite you out on that hunting trip, don’t plead like a little bitch when you’re on your knees in the mud. Just remember, I’m doing this for love. I’m doing this for God.
And really, it’s gonna suck walking back through the forest to the car alone