#and you don't show it off in a 'Hey look at at this wacky coincidence XD' kind of way

[storyweaverofgondor]

Me seeing a commercial where a person’s clothes and/or hair perfectly match the walls and/or furniture: Sooo . . . this person’s a serial killer.

[funny-relatable]

Who else dad is weird like this 🙄

*in another world at another time*

Me: *gets text*

Dad: Hey, who's my favorite daughter?

Me: Dad?

Dad: Hey there, dear. 😉

Me: DAD WTF YOU'RE ALIVE.

Dad: Last time I checked I was. 😂

Me: *out loud* Oh my god!

Roommate: Please stop screaming, I'm in a very intense debate about the merits of socialism with an online friend, and I can't concentrate with you making such a racket.

Me: Socialism? Aren't you incredibly rich and vain?

Roommate: I'm a Trotskyist, you fool.

Me: Who cares! My dad's alive!

Roommate: I wasn't aware that your dad was dead?

Me: Neither was I. I thought he had just abandoned me and my mom all those years ago. I have quite a story about it. When I was about 14, my dad took me on a road trip to go to IHOP for a delicious breakfast. After we had finished, he got up to use the bathroom and never returned. He left me stranded in a strange IHOP two states over.

Roommate: You traveled two states away to go to an IHOP?

Me: I mean, it was a road trip.

Roommate: How do you know it's your dad?

Me: Check my phone, it says dad right there. Of course he's my dad.

Roommate: It could be anyone.

Me: There's no one else in my contacts with the name dad, other than my dad, ya goober. In fact, with every new phone I've gotten I always added his old phone number to the contacts in case of a moment just like this.

Roommate: Even still, don't you think it's suspicious that your father is contacting you via text nearly a decade after he abandoned you?

Me: No.

Roommate: Not even a bit?

Me: No. *buzz* Oh, he texted me again!

Dad: Hey, who's my favorite daughter?

Me: Me, of course! 😘

Dad: No.

Me: What?

Dad: You're my fifth favorite daughter.

Me: I don't understand.

Dad: I have six daughters and you're my fifth favorite one. The sixth one died in a scuba diving accident.

Me: So I'm your least favorite daughter?

Dad: No, don't think of it like that! You're not my least favorite daughter, you're just my least favorite LIVING daughter. 😉

Me: That doesn't make me feel better.

Dad: Ah, it doesn't matter. You remember me, your dad, the big wacky goofball! 😝

Me: I remember you trading my bicycle for coke.

Dad: It's a thing of the past, my daughter who I love the least. I don't want to worry about the past, let's meet up and discuss the future.

Me: OMG You want to meet up? Where?

Dad: IHOP, for old time's sake, but this time let's make it the one in town.

Me: *out loud* Oh my god, I'm meeting up with my dad!

Roommate: I'm right here, you don't have to yell.

Me: I'm so excited. I'm reconnecting with my father. Most girls can only dream of this moment.

Roommate: He honestly sounds like a terrible person.

Me: People change.

Roommate: Yeah, sometimes they become worse.

Me: You're just overly pessimistic because you're a goth and also a Trotskyist.

Roommate: Eh, I can't deny it.

*later at IHOP*

Me: *waiting at table* I can't wait to see my dad again. I wonder what he looks like. I bet he's a businessman now. Oh, or maybe he's a priest. *notices commotion at the front of the store* Hmm?

Waitress: Sir, please wait to be seated.

Disheveled Dude: I'm meeting up with someone, you flighty broad. There's not much time. Get out of my way.

Me: *internally* At least that guy isn't my dad.

Disheveled Dude: Oh, there she is. *runs and sits at my table* Oh my god, is that my little girl. You've grown up so much. You look way too much like your mom. It's bringing back some really bad memories. I'm sorta regretting. Just joking. Hahaha. WHERE THE FUCK IS OUR WAITRESS, I'M TRYING TO EAT HERE!?

Me: What a coincidence it is that the horrible man making a scene at the front of the restaurant is my dad...

Disheveled Dude: What's with the distant look on your face? You're acting like you saw a ghost. Haha, maybe you do think I'm a ghost. Hey, sorry about leaving you at the IHOP all those years ago. Kinda got bored of the whole dad thing. JESUS CHRIST, CAN YOU GUYS FUCKING HURRY UP AND GET US A WAITRESS. F-Fuck. *wipes sweat off forehead*

Me: Dad?

Disheveled Dude: WHAT!?

Me: *jumps in seat*

Disheveled Dude: Sorry, I've been really on edge recently. *nervously looks over shoulder* Where the fuck are these waitresses?

Me: Dad... *gets teary eyed*

Disheveled Dude: Oh god, are you gonna start crying on me.

Me: *sniffles* I'm sorry, I just missed you so much.

Disheveled Dude: Yeah, yeah, I missed you too. Time to move onto the next thing. Inheritance. Uh, I'm gonna die eventually, so you can have all of my money. *put suitcase stuffed with cash on the table and pushes it towards me* You can just have it now, for all I care. I mean, you never know when I'm gonna die.

Me: Dad, I don't want your money. I just want to spend time with you.

Disheveled Dude: Well, you can spend all the time in the world with me once you accept the fat wads of cash in this suitcase. I just need you to say verbally that you're accepting this money from me as a legitimate form of inheritance.

Me: Dad, please. I just want to talk to you.

Disheveled Dude: Come on and take the fucking cash, Elizabeth.

Me: My name's not Elizabeth.

Disheveled Dude: Okay, whatever. Take the money and clearly dictate that you are accepting the entirety of this money as a legitimate form of inheritance from your loving father. You can use it for college, you're college aged right. Or prenatal care. I don't fucking know. What shitty kid doesn't want FREE FUCKING MONEY!?

Me: *stands up from seat* Dad! You're the worst ever! I hate you! *runs out of IHOP sobbing*

Disheveled Dude: Fuck, I knew that wasn't going to work. *notices how dark it is outside* It's almost here. I wasted so much goddamn time. I'm never going to get rid of this thing. FUCK!

Waitress: *nervously* I can help you now, sir.

Disheveled Dude: Oh, so now you show up. I'm not so hungry now. In fact, I've lost my entire damn appetite.

Waitress: I'm sorry, sir. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry.

Disheveled Dude: Which one of those cars outside is yours?

Waitress: The red one.

Disheveled Dude: That broken down piece of shit?

Waitress: Yes.

Disheveled Dude: Guess, there's no other choice. It'll have to do. Give me your fucking keys.

Waitress: What?

Disheveled Dude: *points gun at waiter* GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING KEYS!

Waitress: *drops keys on the table*

Disheveled Dude: *tosses wads of cash at the waitress* That's easily $200,000. Go buy yourself a better car. You might want to make it quick. *runs out of IHOP*

Waitress: *watches disheveled dude speed off* Why is it so dark outside and where did everyone go? I guess it doesn't matter now, though. $200,000. That's a lot of money. I wonder what I'm gonna do with all this? I'm so excited that I'm lightheaded. The future is so bright now.

Wall of Darkness: *encroaches*