Today, you'll say goodbye to your son.

Those crazy rock n rollers.

They're in the driveway waiting to take him away to the life of rock n roll.

"Let me talk to them," you'll say.

Go outside and approach the coolest one in the band, the one with the longest feathers dangling from his ear ring.

"Do you all do drugs?" you'll ask.

The rock band member will think for a moment, then say yes.

"When you do drugs, will you keep an eye on my son to make sure he doesn't do too many?"

The rock band member will shrug and say he guesses.

"I assume there are girls in that van," you'll say to him.

He'll raise his hand for you to high-five him. You'll do so, hoping to raise your credibility.

"Any of them dead?"

The rock band member will shrug and say he ain't no doctor.

"If my son ever has sex with a girl and she dies, will you help him get rid of the body?  Help him drag the body to a dumpster and wipe off any of his DNA that might have gotten on her?"

The rock band member will say they have an agreement. You have sex with it and it dies, it's your responsibility.  It's the rock n roll code.

"So you believe in responsibility," you'll say to him. "That makes me feel more comfortable."

The other band members will stop playing air guitar and air keyboards so that they can set fire to your rosebushes. Watch the blaze rise and know that there's nothing you can do. 

There's nothing you can do.

"Rock n roll," you'll say. 

"Rock n roll," the rock band member will concur.

Turn to your son. "You're 14 now. I can't tell you what to do anymore. This seems like a rock band you can trust. I give you my blessing."

Say goodbye and hug him to your chest. His fishnet top will get caught in the buttons of your shirt. You and your son will laugh. The last time you'll laugh together, because rock n roll is going to change him.

Rock n roll changes everybody in the end.