What do you get when you mix a fifth of sweet tea vodka, two liters of Minute Maid lemonade substitute, a bag of jalapeno kettle chips, and a bad temper? One would think that you get either:
A. A trip to the hospital
B. A trip to the hospital
C. A trip to the shitter
D. All of the above
If you answered any of those, you are wrong, at least in the case of what happened to Danger. The only thing he got was a mild stomach ache, followed by the worse temper tantrum the world had ever seen. Think of Godzilla with bad gas and no Mylanta, but in this case, an angry, drunk, and very in-digested man with nothing to lose. Drama queen would be a good way to describe this person, as the cast of General Hospital would be jealous. Danger actually went around the kitchen, throwing food from the pantry at me, followed by some silverware, which happened to bounce off of my chest and in to the glass I was holding. My granola bars never recovered. The real danger (no pun intended, well, maybe a little) came about when he started throwing half-full two liter bottles of Minute Maid lemonade at me. I was less concerned about the impact of the bottles on my head, and more concerned that I could be covered in the horrible abomination of a beverage that is Minute Maid lemonade. After terrorizing the kitchen which should have relieved the pain of the stomach ache (if you know a better cure, please let me know), Danger went completely spastic, grabbing the counter and shaking his body up and down exclaiming, "It hurts! It hurts so bad!"
Some Tums, a ginger pill, and fifteen minutes later, Danger finally recovered from his tummy ache. He felt no remorse for almost impaling me with silverware, and continued to the drink the rest of the night at a party we ended up going to. With that said, he ate three chicken sandwiches at McDonalds and puked them up.
We call this in the Danger household, Tuesday.