Tigerhaze,
Please tell me Ol' Dad ain't that blind dude that begs left-over White Castles from the back of the Crackhouse.
It's one thing to encounter that dude in a fetid swamp, but I don't want his stench raining on my wing parade. He's uglier than a mud fence, and he always has his finger in his ear.
He's no good, that's my opinion.
I propose that all further transactions regarding the Hooterfest take place via p.m.'s.
He can't possibly smell much better at this time of year,and I believe that his presence would be detremental to the proceedings.
Maybe we could gather all of the wing bones and shrimp tails, and dump them by the crackhouse parking lot. That's more than he deserves.
Ol' Dad,
Please consider this our final offer. You have been warned.
