Chapter 25

“That’s not all we discussed. They confirmed that you have a pussy pleaser. The few times I’ve seen it made me hope that you are not average ... if you were average then average is going to hurt when I decide I want to find out what all the fuss is about.”

“Why would they discuss my size with you?”

“Daddy, I’m taking third year classes at a fairly difficult university. I’m certain, my calendar age never entered their minds. To most of the students there I was a short, built, skinny 20 year old. Very smart but a peer.”

“Wait ... wait, wait, wait! Seen it? When? I’ve been extremely careful. All the Child Protection people would need to take you away would be the slightest hint I exposed myself to you.”

“Honestly?” she asked.

“You should be on the same page here.”

“I peeked,” she said. “Keyholes, conveniently rearranged mirrors, stuff like that.”

“Baby, baby, baby ... don’t do that. I don’t peek on you.”

“I know! I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to flash you but it never worked. You turn around at the worst times.”

“Your swimmers don’t leave a lot to the imagination. That Wild Weasel suit...”

“What did you do with it? I put it in the laundry and haven’t seen it since.”

“When it shows up in your laundry you can wear it.”

“When will that be?”

“About the turn of the century...”

“Daddy ... I’ll be...” she did a quick in the head, “... 78 years old. Won’t nobody want to see me in that suit then.”

“Precisely.”

“Grrr.”

“That’s aarrgghh.”

“Nope ... that’s Arrr.”

“You’re a lot of fun when you’re speaking to me ... again.”

“I don’t mean to be!”

“Yeah.” “Everybody says, ‘I don’t mean to change the subject’ ... but I do,” I said.

“Do?”

“Mean to change the subject.” I changed it. “I am impressed with the impression you made on the new Grandfather.”

“He’s nice ... I suppose it has to do with the Organization of Indigenous Mixed Races.”

“What?”

“You know ... it’s like that one in the States ... for advancement of the progeny of illegally imported peoples.”

“Never heard of the OIMR.”

“As it should be. Our goal is “universal tan.” Sometimes I try and work out an acronym for MUTTS ... because that’s what we are ... hybrids are much easier to get along with than singles. Does that make us GMO’s? Probably.”

“What?”

“Genetics, Dad. Most hybrids are prettier than single race. We get along because there’s nothing to prove. We are already, the best we can be.”

“You know ... I’d rather talk about our original subject ... or rather about a tiny bit of the subject.” I said, trying to get off an extremely controversial subject, “That part you said about getting to the point of deciding you want to find out what all the fuss is about. Is that the fuss I think it is?”

“Sex, Daddy?”

She looked so demure and innocent when she said it. I cringed. Looking at her I know what they mean when they say that daughters are the gods revenge for men being male.

Generally, she was at that stage when I wanted to start carrying a gun. Actually ... she was past it. And I know I remember thinking that girls didn’t look like that when I was growing up ... which was too bad then but is really too bad now. Boys are easier.

“I saw that cringe ... Daddy. I’m human ... eventually ... we all do it.”

“Nuns don’t.”

“What makes you think that?” She said, “The church is as decadent as the rest of the world. Maybe even worse ... we don’t try and hide it.”

“I suppose it’s my upbringing, America is an uptight nation.”

“Which reminds me ... I want a trip when I graduate.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“The states.”

“Why?”

“I want to see where dear old dad was born ... and see if I’m eligible for Dual Citizenship ... two passports could be so much fun.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Noticed?”

“I have Dual Citizenship ... sorta. American and Australian.”

“What about the Canadian, United Kingdom, Belieze and New Zealand passports in the Bugout Bag in the safe?”

Oh shit!