Here’s the story of my dad, the furry.
It starts with my little sister, who’s 13. She says that today she took a BuzzFeed quiz that blah blah doesn’t matter. My dad, ever the cynic, says something along the lines of “boy did you waste a full minute doing that inane task with absolutely no logic behind its reasoning.” And then, to prove it, he makes up a totally arbitrary quiz and gives it to my kid sister (answer six random questions and he’d tell her when she’d get married, where the last question he asked was: when do you want to get married?)
You all know these quizzes buzzfeed does where it’s like “rate these guys and we’ll tell you which one would date you”, right?
So I said to my dad, “Okay, now I’m going to give you one! It’s very important. Rate these Marvel guys by hotness and I’ll tell you which of the actors would date you.” Which is very close to a real quiz that I’ve actually seen (but not done - rating quizzes are more trouble than they’re worth, imo).
He looks amused, but whatever, he’s in this mess now and he started it.
I start naming Marvel guys.
“6.” (Paraphrasing here - we had a whole discussion about which Thor he was talking about, blah blah blah).
“Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier.”
“4.” (”2,” says my older sister, who’s 18 and obviously has no taste.)
“5. Right in the middle.”
“6.” (I swallow my outrage that somehow Tony Stark is as hot as Thor but hotter than T’Challa. In fairness, my dad is a straight guy and he’s happily married. He’s probably never thought about it.)
“Peter Quill. Starlord. Chris Pratt.”
“4. [My older sister] thinks I should be giving him a 9.”
“Mm, he’s kind of schlumpy. 3.”
“He’s a 6.” (Which, well, yeah, he has the dad look down pat.)
“Captain America.” (My dad: who? I can’t picture what he looks like. Me: Chris Evans? My dad: OH.)
“I haven’t given anything over a six yet. He gets a seven.” (Then my kid sister, belatedly: Steve Rogers. My dad: Well now THAT guy -)
“Sam Wilson, aka Falcon. Aka Anthony Mackie, if you don’t know.”
“He’s…I’ll give him a 6.” (I suspect my dad isn’t really paying attention to the ratings he’s giving.)
I pause. “You want to rate the hotness of a tree?”
“No. Agent Rhodes. James Rhodes. War Machine.”
“He’s kind of schlumpy too. 2. Ask me about Groot. Go on.”
“That’ll be my big finale,” I say.
And then the moment of truth arrives.
My dad says, “Oh, he gets a 9!”
Y’all heard it here first. Rocket Raccoon is not only three degrees hotter than Thor, he’s three times hotter than Bruce Banner and more than twice as hot as Bucky Barnes and Peter Quill.
(I ask him finally, “Groot.”
(I tell him Anthony Mackie would date him. He probably likes birds. I should have said T’Challa, but I wasn’t thinking of the furry thing until I started writing this post.)
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