DATING: AL DENTE Chapter 2: The Guy Who Cracked His Head Open (go to the previous page) Ironically, he suddenly became quite vociferous and wanted nothing more than to continue on our jolly quest and to give me some flavourful conversation. I took this acute change of personality as a cue to lure him up the embankment and into the car, and ordered him to: "Shut your fucking mouth -- this trip is OVER!" I was SO incredibly full of ire -- how DARE he crack his head open on MY stinking vacation? He didn't even want to go to the hospital so I could compare the ER to William Shatner's dramatizations on Rescue 911. I took a deep breath, wrapped my hands around the mildew-riddled steering wheel, drove back to town and hauled his sorry soaked pimply ass out of the car. Remember the age-old rule of never permitting somebody with a concussion go to sleep in case they lapse into a coma? I put him to bed and watched 80's videos on VH-1 for the rest of the day. Here's to Boston: cheers. Go back to the start. Or read other chapters of Dating: Al Dente Do YOU have any nightmare dates you'd like to share? Tell KillerQueen at killerqueen@spitemag.com. Misery loves company, after all. If you couldn't tell from the spelling in this article, KillerQueen is from Canada, where she rules over the futures of teenagers and longs for 1980s flashbacks on the radio. Spite Home | Bile Cabinet Post A Message