Dante

Dante and I used to play doubles in a competitive badminton league. We called ourselves the wondertwins and what we lacked in actual skill we made up for in trash talking. We went out drinking after the finals at some really dark and seedy bar to celebrate our ninth place victory. We were in line to play Street Fighter and I see a bunch of ice on the floor where someone had spilled their drink. For a laugh, I picked some up and dropped it down the back of his pants and ran. I turned around to watch him and he was gone. I'm looking all over for him, but he's nowhere. Fifteen minutes later he appears with his hand all bandaged and tells me some motherfucker put some broken glass down the back of his pants which cut up his hand as he was pulling it out, and that he intended to "kill that motherfucker." I laughed uncontrollably and was finally able to spit out that it was me. Punch Punch Punch. "You're dead to me Motherfucker!" End of story.