Own initiative pays off

Read what preceded - The Washed Away Wedding Cake - “Get that guy out of your head anyway.!' My dad doesn't understand my love for romance. And not at all how I can combine them with, as he could call it plastic, vague exhaust system feelings. It's been a while since he had swept out of my mother's jam pot himself. I'm sure he doesn't remember how good it always tasted. “Mom would have been very proud of it. How many times did she begged me to finally take initiative??' 'Yes yes, but you don't know what kind of peculiar customs that southerners follow. Perhaps that's not appreciated in their culture at all. I don't like it.' “Really, dad, you shouldn't think so late about foreigners, it's a normal man, he speaks perfectly Dutch, has a job and very good manners.' “The last time he appeared at the door here, I got a hunch of it. There's something strange about the man. Why you had to order a wedding cake from the company he works for. I don't understand.' Chuckling, I think back to his first visit to our home address, when my dad baked them pretty brown with his personal bread maker. Did he understand the metaphors?? I don't really know about it. And in addition.. him, probably wouldn't have been told what the contents of the order. “We can treat ourselves once.' “You do your best, I had loved mushrooms just as much,” my dad hums. “But if he comes, he has to pass me first. I open the door, and with it basta!' The bell sounds weird. Like it's not our own bell. Butterflies frolic in my body. Will it work out well?? My dad jumps up right away. I follow him closely. The treat won't escape this time. “One good afternoon. The right address this time, I double-checked and I took the freedom to check the contents for errors as well. What a subtle hint. A highly-sized one, I have to confess. I was confused by it at first, it doesn't really fit my culture. But good. Trying something new is part of it. It's good that you open the door, I can ask for your daughter's hand right away.The delivery man opens the package and shows the contents. A cake, on a plateau and a knife. 'That can be arranged, 'I hear my father say. He takes control of the blade, turns to me. Grabs my arm, lifts the knife and drops it at the level of my wrist with dismal precision. With a special thanks to @De Craft Teacher Ede ✂️ for the wonderfully inspiring drawing -