Imbecile dad!

Kids are so strange these days. For yet another time I had to sit through a Math exam, meaning I had to read it all out... all of it. I must have read a million numbers. If I had been paid 1Euro per number I read I would have made myself rich. But of course it didn't happen that way. It never does. I like What Ifs because they make me dream. And at the same time I hate What If's because they bring me back to reality with a vengeance. Anyway, I read and read and read. Problems, fractions, percentages, adding up, subtracting. You name it, there it was. And somehow when it was all almost over, I get to hear grumbling about a hunting ban. By a kid, 10 years old. And I, who of course will not let it go when it comes to animals voiced my opinion... good for the ban because I love animals and nobody should be allowed to kill them. The answer shot me off my butt, 'Yeah Miss but how would you feel if the government passed a law against keeping pets?'! What the fuck does that have anything to do with the hunting ban? But he was so unmoved and kept saying it was the same thing. Is loving a cat and a dog for many years, tending to their every need and whim and making sure they get a lot of TLC the same as killing birds and geese with a bang? He still kept saying it was the same and I so wanted to hit him, not as in violence, just to do him a favour and perhaps jog his brains to make them think straight. Then came the bomb. 'Miss because that's what my dad says'! So dad is an imbecile or what? And such a young person relishing the paternal idiocy? Oh man, give me a break. I tried to explain, it was falling on completely pretty but deaf ears. He boasted that he had been going hunting with his imbecile dad since aged 1. Now that's an achievement! Because what dad says goes. Dad also should be taken down with a bullet in his balls, tied down and made sterile. That would make him crying out for a ban. Me, I would instantly register for a shot gun if only to take one man down by his balls. But I could also wear killer (here comes the reason why they call them killer) stiletto heels and squash his balls to white powder. It made me think. Thank you God for giving me my own dad who is far from being an imbecile, a dad who does not impose his imbecile or his intelligent views on me. And thank you God for giving me my sweet dad who never took me hunting but took me to music class instead, my dad who spent real time with me instead of wasting his time cleaning his shotguns. That's one lucky card thrown in for me.