A father happens to go by his child’s room one evening and abruptly 12 warnings show up. The bed is made. His garments are secured. The room is thoroughly clean. Also, there has all the earmarks of being a conceal on his child’s pad. It says “Father” on it.
Surging in the room, getting the letter, tearing it open anxiously expecting something awfully terrible, he hauls out the note and starts perusing:
“Dear Dad, it is with great regret and sorrow that I am writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with mom and you. I’ve been finding real passion with Stacy, and she is so nice, but I knew you would not approve because of her piercings, tattoos, tight motorcycle clothes, and the fact she’s much older than I am.
But it’s not only the passion Dad; she’s pregnant.
Stacy said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods, and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children.
Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn’t really hurt anyone. We’ll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with other people in the commune — for all the cocaine and ecstasy we want.
Don’t worry, Dad. I’m 15, and I know how to take care of myself. Someday, I’m sure we’ll be back to visit, so you can get to know your many grandchildren.
Dad, none of the above is true. I’m over at Jason’s house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the school report that’s on the kitchen table. Call when it’s safe for me to come home!”