When he was a kid, my dad apparently was really into Zorro. This year, for his 80th birthday, I hired a guy to dress up as Zorro, break through a window, and carve a “Z” into my dad’s chest. In hindsight, my dad probably wanted to be Zorro, not the guy who Zorro beats up, but that dude has an oxygen tank and can’t walk up the stairs without getting winded. ZERO Zorro energy from that motherfucker, sorry. Don’t ruin the party for the rest of us, Dad.
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