You may have been wondering about my desperate attempts to catch you at being a perverted fuck. You might be wondering what my problem is. I'm not sure, but since we haven't talked for 20 years, I've got to imagine something. So I've imagined my father, the horny duck.
I grew ecstatic upon finding the stack of Playboy magazines so carefully hidden in the bathroom closet underneath the extra washcloths. They were the first piece of evidence, marking the beginning of my quest to prove to the world that my father is a perverted fuck and should have his dick cut off.
Shit, one would think that I'd been molested--or worse. Well, now it's time for the truth to finally come out. I was ignored, and now I wish my father would molest me. I wish that he'd touch something other than his Golf Digest and 70-pound weights. Thanks for the years of inattention, Daddy. I hope you drop those weights on your toes.