The teen male who stood before James Kenneth Smith was there to pick up his daughter for a date. Since his daughter turned 16 Mr. Smith was not a fan of teen males in general… but he was particularly not a fan of this one. His name was Syd if Mr. Smith understood correctly. Although free of the usual piercings and bad tattoos that so many of the males his age sported, Syd dressed in the same thoughtful way a teen would if awaken in the depths of night and told there was a fire and he must leave immediately. The backwards cap especially annoyed Mr. Smith.
He considered briefly violently slamming the door in the face of this would-be-daughter-raper but, knowing his daughters temperament, thought better of it. He motioned Syd inside and invited him to join him in the living room. Syd seemed comfortable enough and met his stony gaze with little hesitation. They sat and the sound of Mrs. Smith alerting her daughter to the arrival of her date played in the distance.
“Unless you’re a catcher can you please turn your hat around?” he asked Syd.
“So people who see you out with my daughter don’t think that she is out on a date with a retarded boy.” He calmly answered. A slow smile crept across the face of the non-catcher.
“It’s part of the social contract Mr. Smith.”
“How so?” The teen had Mr. Smiths full attention now.
“This is my rebellion… my way of arguing against your expectations.”
“Is that so?” A slow smile crept across the face of Lance Smith.
“And might I add, respectfully sir, that the lack of plastic covers on your furniture shows me that you are not holding up your end of that contract.”
Mr. Smith shifted in his seat and for a moment there was no sound in the room except the bubbling of the Zen Rock Garden Table Fountain that Mrs. Smith insisted on buying recently (the polished river rocks were included at no charge). “So he wants to play does he” Mr. Smith thought to himself.
“Son, do you enjoy pornography?” he asked his daughters young suitor.
“As often as I can sir” came the reply. Neither was smiling.
“And do you plan on having sex with my daughter this evening?”
“I will make every attempt to do just that Mr. Smith.”
Was it his imagination or did the variable speed Zen Rock Garden Table Fountain that Mrs. Smith insisted on buying recently (the polished river rocks were included at no charge) just change speeds? He could swear it was suddenly pumping out more water. There were little bubbles frothing up where before there were none. At least none that he had noticed.
“Syd. Before I hurl you broken out into the night let me tell you a little story.” Both visibly relaxed and sank back into their seats. It was understood that a short story was now going to commence and that it was important for Syd to take the forthcoming information to heart.
“Sex has seasons Syd. Did you know that? You are in the spring. A young bud pushing through the virgin earth. A growing seed yearning and thrusting upwards for the warm sunlight it’s never felt before. The reason you might not be aware of that is because the internet shows nothing but summer and fall. You, your generation, has been cheated Syd. I feel for you. I really do.”
James Smith paused and watched the face of his young audience member. He wanted to believe that what he was saying was being understood but Syd’s face remained a mask.
“What I’m trying to say is this. If you want to kiss my daughter I find that perfectly reasonable… having been on your side of these very conversations many years ago. If you wish to awkwardly grope at my daughters young breasts during the movie then, while the thought disgusts me, I cannot deny you that aspiration.”
Mr. Smith leaned in forward and his voice became a whisper. Syd, appreciating the gravity of what was about to be said leaned in himself, afraid he might miss some subtle nuance or vocal inflection.
“If, on the other hand, your goal is to have my daughter act like the women that you jerk off to on a daily basis then the next time we meet will not be so cordial. By that I mean, if you attempt to coerce her into anything that is best expressed in summer or fall I will rip off your dick and cock-whip you with it.”
Syd swallowed and, fumbling for something for his hands to do, slowly turned his hat around.
“I don’t mean figuratively. I want to make that clear right now. I will literally grab your flaccid dick and rip it off your body. I will then strike you about the face and neck with your own bloody member.”
Mr. Smith leaned back again.
“I think we have an understanding Mr. Smith. I appreciate you having this talk with me.”
“Do you really?” Mr. Smith inquired.
The sound of his daughter approaching had both of them slowly standing.
“I do. You’re right about the seasons sir. I want a spring and I hope it’s with your daughter. I like her and I’m glad that I have an excuse not to want summer.”
A broad smile broke across the face of James Kenneth Smith.
“And Syd…” he leaned in for one last word as his daughter grabbed her date and began to drag him to the door.
“I’ll get right on those plastic slip covers.”