The Question All Fathers Must one Day Ask their Teenage Daughters

“Sweetie..” someone gently shook my shoulders. A light flicked on. I scrunched my nose and tighted my body into the fetal postition.
“Sweetie, come on,” he shook me again, a little rougher this time, “it’s time to wake up. Come on, or you’ll be late to school.”
I inwardly sighed and listened to him move around my small box of a room. Trying, as he did every morning, to push the correct button on my stereo system in which music would play.
He paused and for one breif, glorious moment, it was dead silent.
“Hon, why are all the mirrors in here covered. Are those your mother’s good sheets?” he seemed very confused. “What’s going on.. Are you- are you a vampire?”
Silly daddy, I may look like a monster but I am not a blood sucking leech.
“No,” I groaned, scratching my throat.
“Oh, okay,” he snapped his fingers a couple times and my leg twitched. “Well wake up, silly, it’s a new day.”
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nothing is new.
Same routine. Same person. Thus, same fucking hideous face.

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