Family and Dysfunction: You got a good story to share? Tell me!!!!!!!!
When I was a teenager and I had a date, my dad would answer the door in his underwear. He would then have the unsuspecting boy sit on the couch and explain to him: "Listen, I know what you are... You're a hard-dick son-of-a-bitch, and you better not lay a finger on my daughter. I'll break your finger. I'll do more than that."
Eventually, word got around high school that anyone who wanted to take Michele on a date, should arrange to meet her outside her house, preferably six to seven houses or six to seven miles away from her dad.
Mind you, this is great fodder for being a novelist, and I love my crazy SOB DAD. He'd still break your finger if you tried to mess with me.