Today eight neighborhood dads are going to head out into the middle of the cul de sac to smash some face and finally find out which Dad is the motherfucker who can beat up the other seven dads living on your gated street. Weapons are encouraged, which didn’t used to be the way. All you kids and Moms are going to go out to root your dads on and talk shit to the other kids and moms. Your Dad will get knocked out fourth, and you and your mom will drag him back up the hill to your house where you’ll tend to his wounds. When you open his shirt you’ll be shocked to find a gaping wound gushing way too much blood.
“I wanted to win for you,” he’ll say. “I let myself get cut and I’ll miss you both so much.”
After his funeral you’ll have to move from the cul de sac because you don’t have a father to protect you anymore. When a Dad dies on your street, the other homeowners give a 24 hour headstart before they bust through your doors to steal and rape and burn your home to the ground. Before the fight your Dad rented a u-haul for just this contingency (all the dads rent u-hauls in case they die in the fistfight). Get the truck filled and make tracks to a studio apartment on the other side of town, where moms and daughters can live peacefully without a father on the premises for the price of a moderate tax paid in cash at the sheriff’s.
Happy Eight Dad Fistfight Day!
