[Pretentiously blows on polished fingernails in between sips of mocha Frappuccino].
Oh, I'm sorry, who did you say
your daddy was again? A doctor? How quaint.
Well,
my daddy happens to be the prestigious owner of the largest baseball bat in his crack den. A loving father, lifelong gambler and committed crackhead, he uses that bat to rightfully defend his crack whores, even though he can't quite remember which one of them gave birth to me!
Sigh! I'll never forget how proud I was to see my daddy featured prominently on the back page of the
DC Examiner after he broke into a 7/11 convenience store one night and passed out drunk on the floor without any pants on, just how the officers found him! I still have his mugshot from the news clippings, placed prominently onto my mantlepiece...the shards of glass still in his hair from the broken door...the small saliva-soaked chunks of Slim Jim and distinctly orange flakes of Cheetos still clinging to his unkempt beard. The glazed lackadaisical look in his eyes. What women his age could resist such a handsome gent?
Anyways, look sharp! My father is a busy man but he just left a text from his 2001 Nokia mobile phone he found in a dumpster and will be arriving here any moment to pick me up in his two-seater bicycle, so please do try to make a good first impression. Don't you dare embarrass me with talk about your daddy being a, what was that again, a
doctor?
Hmm.