This is for the punk that slept with my daughter. I’m not mad about that, she’s a grown woman and can make her own (bad) decisions. Lord knows I did in my day. But when you wake up in another man’s house and proceed to drink the last of his orange juice from the carton (I’m assuming you didn’t use, wash and put away a cup) and steal the big jar of change he’s got sitting on the counter (FYI that was a fund to buy my granddaughter a Christmas present), then you sir are not only a loser but an idiot. I wish to God I would’ve caught you—that would have been the most satisfying beating I’ve ever given out. As it is you’re lucky my daughter likes you enough to not give up your name. I assume you won’t show your face again like the spineless coward you are.