Dipshit Dad Down the Hall: A Surrender in Three Parts

Part 1: The Truce
[I slide past the door of the quickly-closing elevator, inertia almost pushing me into the none-too-inviting personal-space of Dipshit Dad; you can actually hear him roll his eyes]
Me:[audible sigh]
Look, I'll make you a deal: if you make an attempt to knock-off the fucking swearing around, or at, your kids, I'll make an attempt not to belittle you in front of them.
[beat]
Fair?
[Dipshit Dad, after much silence, looks in my general direction and shrugs; the elevator door opens and he leaves...but not without first stealing a glance of my face as I wink at him]
Me:[giving him the thumbs-up, which is ignored]
Deal!
Part 2: The Chivalry
[Dipshit Dad, like a gentleman, holds the elevator door open for both my girlfriend & I, despite his wife having earlier looked at her, in the girlfriend’s words, “like I was somehow responsible for you being a dickhead”]
Part 3: The Un-Truce
[Dipshit Dad is out in front of the building with some little guy with a moustache; they are, honestly, carrying a pew into a moving-truck]
Me:Where are you going with my pew?
[Dipshit Dad starts to respond but sees the mocking grin on my face; then he gets really angry - so angry, in fact, that he slams his end of the pew into the corner of the moving-truck, almost leveling his mustachioed-buddy with the ricochet, and storms over to where I'm standing]
Me:
Heading off?
Dipshit Dad:
Yeah, hopefully into a neighbourhood where assholes...
[points finger at me]
...don’t knock on your door and tell you how to raise their kids.
Me:Sooo...South Hammertown?
[Dipshit Dad doesn’t find this funny, though it most certainly is, and looks at his buddy for support; buddy looks back with "toughness", and then tries to gingerly put down his end of the pew]
Dipshit Dad:
Who the fuck do you think you are? Who the fuck are you to tell me anything about raising my kids, or what I wear when I walk them to school?
[glaring pause]
I don’t need some...
[pause; thinks of a pronoun]
...asshole putting their nose in my business!
Me:
[jubilant; ecstatic; other synonyms for “excited“]
Please tell me that you’re leaving because of all of that.
Dipshit Dad:
[knowing what I want to hear]
No...
Me:[sizing him up]
Sure you are.
[buddy has joined in on the fun, standing beside Dipshit Dad like he isn’t four-feet tall]
Dipshit Dad:
Not so tough now, huh?
Me:[confused]
What?
Dipshit Dad:You’re lucky we don’t kick your ass.
Me:
[bored]
Right.
[silence]
I’ve always felt lucky...
Dipshit Dad:[talking to his buddy as though I’m not standing two-feet from them]
Maybe we should kick his ass...
Me:
Maybe I should call child-services and get those little monsters you’re raising away from you and your vile wife and into a decent home.
[pause; I look down to get my cell-phone from my pocket]
Yeah, I should do that...
[Dipshit Dad and his buddy are in the truck, starting it as I flip open my phone]
Me:[yelling]
Safe trip!