The Post In Which I Finally Meet Dante's Girlfriend

While in Kentucky, Dante and I visited the waterpark in town, one of the few things to actually do in that small town. So of course, everyone you know is going to be there. I usually try to avoid it, because I don't really like most of the people I know from back home.

This visit, though, was a nice surprise for Dante. His gradeschool girlfriend, Dasia was there (say it just like the continent, but with a D). I find a shady spot and a pull out my piece of pulp to waste the time, and Dante comes flying over to where I'm sitting.

She's here!! Don't tell her where I am!
Who's here? Why would I tell her anything?
Dasia!! Don't tell her I'm here!!

And he's off to haunt her, following the waves she leaves behind in the pool. It was one of the most hysterical spectacles I've ever witnessed. He would follow behind like a master spy at a safe distance. When she would turn around, he would submerge himself beneath the pool until she moved on. Once, he even made use of a floaty to hide his presence: he floated underneath it, coming up in the hole to breathe.

Finally, he decided he wanted to attract her attention. So he picked what must've seemed to be the proper distance to him, and then began enacting what I can only describe as a peacock mating dance. On acid. Some sort of wriggling out of the water while splashing and hooting. This went on for about 30 minutes. He'd do his dance, she'd move on, he'd pursue, submerging himself when necessary, only to shoot up out of the water and begin his hooting dance again.

He ran up to me afterwards, drenched, and hissed: Never trust her!! Apparently she dunked him a few times. What sort of relationship is this, anyway?

After a couple of hours of working around to playing together, they finally got down to the business of playing together.

She's a cutie. I can see why Dante likes her, because she's so vivacious.

On the walk home, Dante didn't say much. But then he sort of whispered it out:
I told you, Mama.
Told me what, baby?
I told you she was pretty. Wasn't she pretty?

Yep. She was pretty.

--Virgil