There were a couple of fellas doing repair work to the house across the street from my parent's house this morning. They were both in their late 50's or so, shirtless, with cut-off jean shorts and hiking boots...and maybe 6 teeth between them. As I was loading my car to leave...they both let out whistles in my general direction. I rolled my eyes and noticed that my dad was sitting on the front porch swing. He looked at me, looked over at them, then got up and walked silently across the yard. I went back in the house and watched from the front door as he walked over to them and talked for a few minutes. Without incident, he then started walking back across the street and back into the house...
Me: What did you say to them?
Dad: Oh...I just said, "Hey boys, that's my baby daughter you just whistled at. Now, I'm pretty sure she don't appreciate the whistling...and I know I don't, but let's get something straight. If you do it again, you won't have to worry about me coming across the street. You'll have to worry about HER coming across the street. Cause I don't know what she did with my shotgun, but SHE does."
Me: I love you too daddy. <3
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