Here is a short history of my dad’s interaction with his four teenaged daughters’ boyfriends, the early years.
Chased boy with a crowbar, a guy bothering Youngest Sister.
Chased boyfriend P with butcher knife, boyfriend arguing vehemently with Sister After Me.
Chased rival boyfriends P and W, fighting over Sister After Me. Stupid guy, W pulls small knife, Papi pulls much bigger butcher knife, chases both guys away.
Frightens future suitor of Middle Sister while wielding a baseball bat in the air.
Finds oldest daughter making out with boyfriend on couch. Boyfriend suddenly disappears, flying through the air, landing on butt about fifteen feet away. Daughter looks up to see very angry father, very frightened boyfriend, and Youngest Sister (could have warned me that Papi was home from work, but chose not to, Punk!) and friend coming in to watch the fun, laughing their arses off. Boy ordered from house. Boy running as fast as possible.
My dad, the Dark Knight, fiery eyes, with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, wielding tools of mass destruction – priceless.