#denailing

The ‘medical professionals/experts’ - ha! As if! Like they’d know anything about his medical needs- seemed to think it was all in his head. One nurse even had the gall to say he was just after drugs! Like Danny’s dumb enough to fall into drugs on top of his already complicated half-life! Besides… he’s pretty sure that stuff wouldn’t really work on him anyways; he was willing to try at this damn point though, if it helped even slightly. Vaguely. Nebulously. To whatever bullshit degree. Any amount would be a good amount.

Then his parents thought he was just trying to get out of schoolwork or to ‘have an excuse’ for his grades/lack of doing chores other than just being lazy. Which was kinda insulting but at least he could vaguely understand that logic. Their trust and faith in him was pretty scattershot at the best of times and completely pulverised into the fucking ground most other times. That one was on him. But fucking still. Whatever happened to parents being there for their kids?!? Ancients.

Jazz thought he was stressed or was suffering from some psychobabble phantom pain style stuff due all his injuries and ‘pushing himself too hard’. Her opinion was therapy. It was always therapy. Not fucking happening. And on top of that, as soon as she realised he wasn’t seemingly physically injured -even if he absolutely was physically hurting goddamnit- she immediately decided it was some mental bullshit and just… completely disregarded his arguments otherwise. He had to make sure not to cry out- scream when the pain woke him at night or kept him up, because if she asked and he was honest, she wouldn’t shut about ‘PTSD flash backs’. As if that was even whatever was happening here! It was may more frustrating then the doctors, nurses or their parents; because she was supposed to be on his side. She KNEW. But apparently knowing he was half freaking dead did nothing to stop her from, like always, deciding she knew his body better than he did. Which was some egotistical bullshit crap.

But the real piss off was that Sam and Tuck, his two best friends, were also writing this off as ‘just in his head’. What the fuck. No seriously. What. The. Fuck. Guys. It honestly felt like a slap in the face when even they gave him those pitying ‘you just need some rest and relaxation then you’ll come to your senses’ looks. They’ve been with him through enough weird body shit to know by now that the chances of something just being ‘nothing’ or ‘fake’ was fuck all zero! But apparently not he guesses.

So now here he is, stuck in yet another hospital waiting room (too early to have even grabbed a coffee beforehand for fucks sake), to see yet another doctor whoever, to get told yet again that he was imagining it or seeking drugs or currently on drugs or coming off of drugs or looking for attention, while being yet again completely by himself, because yet again no. one. actually. believed. him. But this fucking time he’s keeping his mouth shut about the whole damn visit and used a damn false name just so everyone would not look at him like that yet again.

Danny is officially firmly of the opinion of keeping his damn problems to his damn self. Firmly. For all of entity… or however long he kicked around for; which based on just how much goddamn pain he was in currently -like everything hurt- would hopefully be not much fucking longer if the universe has any kind of mercy left for him.

His joints felt like they were filled with sharp pop rocks candy that crackled at every little movement. His bones had damn acid in them that was simultaneously way too hot and way too cold; he didn’t even know he could feel cold anymore! All his senses were overstimulated and numb all at once in that horrible straining to hear people to the point where said straining makes you feel like you’re gonna burst your eardrums and simultaneously blow your brains out of your nose kinda way; but also like someone stuck your eyes and sinuses in a pressure cooker while bashing it with frying pans, the solid cast iron kind. His nails hand ants under them, his teeth felt like sandpaper against his gums, and his tongue felt thick enough to be actively choking him.

Hell! The only reason he was even bothering with coming here, because it was abso-fucking-lutely pointless and he knew it by now, was because he had torn off his finger and toenails in a really vain and really stupid attempt to block one pain out with another. Did it work? HA. Yeah right, with his luck? Never. But he absolutely refuses to let his so-called ‘close’, ‘caring’, ‘there for him’, loved ones know what he did. Because, fuck, would that fall out be bad. He had basically mutilated himself after all. And boy did that ever hurt. Still did. Which was really only compounding with all the other pains.

If he couldn’t goddamn act like he wasn’t in ungodly horrific pain then he’d be on the floor crying.

He kinda hated that he could act.

Maybe they’d actually believe him then but no, self-control and high pain tolerance wasn’t just something with an off switch apparently.

Fuck him.

But please, oh please, let the actually visible injuries heal before doctor whatever actually asks for him. He is not here for a grippy sock vacation. He’s here to not be in goddamn pain for once.

…

Not that he had his hopes up or anything.

That would be silly.

Really silly.

And would go against the very solid pattern that’s been established.

But apparently, he was too stupid to not be at least a little hopeful… Ancients he was an idiot.

Well pain does make people do stupid shit, and he was in pain goddamnit! But fuck, maybe he’ll just have to ‘live with it’, shut up about it forever, and try to push down it getting more and more and more. Hey maybe eventually it’ll actually get too much and he’ll just have a complete break down and then they’ll take him seriously!?! Huh?!? Wouldn’t that be just great?!? When he’s just so fucked up on pain that he just unclicks with his own consciousness and goes comatose or some shit. Fucking LOVELY future right there. Boy gee golly he just can’t wait!

God this room smelled like ass.

Why? on top of everything else? did it also have to stink in here? Can’t he have one teeny tiny thing? Like a waiting room that was properly clean?

And some old dude in the corner is definitely picking his nose. Which, through the power of suggestion, is making his own nose itchy. Course he can’t scratchy any part of said nose because he went and fucked up his fingernails. Well sure he could just rub semi-raw partly reformed nail bed on nose flesh but that would just hurt; and he’s established that increasing physical pain won’t decrease physical pain. Since, you know, it was actually physical pain not mental fabricated pain thank you very much.

He does actually glance to his ‘nails’ to consider it though. Just because something's stupid doesn’t mean Danny’s not going to at least consider it. But hey! turns out his healing is pretty damn solidly kicking his own dumb decisions ass! He doesn’t have nails, per-say, but he doesn’t not have them either. The… ants have not been reduced though, so a win and a loss.

But then, of fucking course, the universe decides to be a massive dick to him and Dash of all people walks in. Why? Just… WWWWWWHHHHHHHHHYYYYY?!?!?!?!?

Well okay, according to Dash -ugh- and the desk lady person, Dash fucked up his wrist doing the thing he loves most, next to beating people up… playing with balls. And fine maybe that thought gets a slight mean chuckle out of him, before the throat motion just makes him want to cry. He settles for gagging. At least that might be insulting to Dash if the guy hears.

Which he, of course, does.

Fuck.

The guy turning his head before smirking, “well if it isn’t little Fentina”, snickering and ‘bending down to be more on level with Danny’ in an extremely mocking manner, “what? Break a fingernail? Or oh! I know! Bite off your tongue because you were too busing yapping when you should learn to keep your trap shut”. Multiple people are glaring at the jock but well, obviously no one’s going to actually do anything, no one ever fucking does.

But Danny really doesn’t care if he pushes this asshole buttons. What’s the guy gonna do? Hurt him? Ha! Like that’ll make some kind of real difference. There’s no fucking point in being cautious of pain if he’s just always going to be in it. Rolling his eyes at the joke of a jock and not giving a damn if it feels like his eyelids are attempting to remove the outer layers of his entire fucking eyeballs, “wow I guess even the doctor can’t cure you of your horrendous sickness”.

“Oh and what sickness would that be, twerp”.

Danny puts in all the effort of causally inspecting his nails, which have grown ever so slightly past the edge of his nails beds, “only the sickness of being the living embodiment of the clown emoji”. God his fingertips felt like ice. He should not be able to feel his bones so acutely.

The jock actually gives up all pre-tenses of actually needing to be goaded into trying to pound Danny’s face in. He really shouldn’t practically encourage the bully but fuck if he cares anymore. Accepting his fate is apparently something he’s pretty good at, as he just effectively lets Dash grab his shitty torn-up shirts collar and drag him towards the back door. The physical skin-to-skin contact is honestly enough all on its own to get a faint pained hiss out of him. It’s a lot honestly. Like rubbing fresh scabbed scars that won’t ever actually heal.

Dash unceremoniously throws him at the crappy dumpsters, “ah the trash right where it… belongs…”, and trails off a bit, the bite to his words petering off some. Which is honestly expected because Danny’s kinda had enough, and they’re alone now, and maybe pain makes him give less of a flying damn, and he is one hundred percent pulling his angry eyes on Dash before outright charging the other teen; slamming Dash’s back hard into the door making it shut extremely loudly.

“Shut the actual fuck up, Dash”.

God everything fucking hurt. So. Goddamn. Much. Dash’s shitty little shirt is like grabbing a fist full of really pissed off porcupines that decided to role around in ground chilli powder. The pressure from the ground under his feet was too much and nothing all at once which was in and of itself too much to think about. And his cheeks, god fuck, this is exactly what it must feel like to try and stretch something that empathically can not be stretched.

And Dash is looking at him like he’s gonna piss himself. And that just pisses Danny off some more so he winds up ramming Dash into the door again, which the teen actually flinches from.

Damn it.

Now he feels like an absolute asshole.

Fuck.

This is the exact kind of shit he said he wouldn’t do.

This day is really really awful. But guess that’s what he gets for trying to improve the pile of shit life and death have apparently served to him.

God, he’s gonna give himself a depressive episode before everything else does him in at this rate.

But also… what the actual fuck is going on with Dash’s, uh, scent. Wet… kinda? sweet? the Hell? But Jesus fucking Christ he legit wants it. Growling at the teen and definitely scaring him more, which just makes Danny growl more honestly which is a super weird automatic reaction to have, before outright biting the guy and blitzing the fuck out.

Like a key in an ignition lock and all the pain just… vaporising. At least he’s aware enough to know he didn’t, like pierce Dash’s throat or whatever the actual fuck. His teeth were all ecto and just… going through skin. Which just opened the flood gates, like Danny accessed something he previously couldn’t or just didn’t know how.

On some primal ghostly level he knew. Understood. This was what he needed.

To make the pain go away.

To feed himself. His… Core? Yeah, Core.

Dash, meanwhile, is pretty much whimpering. But fuck that guy. Has Danny pretty much just shoved him to the ground? Yeah Danny thinks so… maybe. But he is definitely doing some weird predatory shit that he would one hundred percent not be okay with if he was even vaguely in the right state of mind. Which he decidedly was absolutely not.

But hey, being in blinding pain that’s been progressively getting worse for the better part of THREE FUCKING YEARS while also being: 1) ignored, 2) insulted, 3) dismissed, and 4) falsely pitied, over said PAIN kind of fucks with your head something fierce.

And Dash is just making it so much goddamn worse.

All.

The.

Fucking.

Time.

And goddamnit he wants. Wants whatever the fuck he’s getting here. And Dash can just shut up and deal because Ancients the jock has been such an absolute dickweed.

Fuck.

Dash, predictably, doesn’t shut up, “t-this is, this is the single mo-most sca-scary thing ever. W-what the actual fuck”.

And it clicks.

It really clicks.

That’s what this was.

Fear.

He was eating a humans -Dash’s, he reminds himself- fear.

That…

That should concern him. Should frighten him. But right now… fuck. He wants… NEEDS. He can absolutely feel his core practically screaming at him.

That’s what everything was. His core was… hungry… so it made all his… his, er, ectoplasm just go crazy in him. Hurt him.

Ancients that was messed up.

He was messed up. Not that that was anything new.

(And later ClockWork would effectively confirm that his Core was effectively making ALL the wounds he’d received over forever just… reopen on his spiritual/ghostly/spooky/whatever self. Along with some really interesting boiling/freezing crap. Which is a whole heaping load of really really fucking messed up for himself to do to himself. But message fucking received at least… after three full years anyway)

Danny’s mental musings give just enough distraction for Dash to actually manage to shove off the half-ghost, throwing him into the ground enough to absolutely concuss a regular person. Dash scrambling a bit down the wall and just staring down at Danny, who is currently electing to just… not move for a bit here.

Everything’s already starting to hurt again and he hates it. Kind of desperately hates it. But Ancients, what did he do? The pain was less sure, at a cost. And pain, even lessened, honestly felt worse when it came back after being blissfully gone.

Oh this was truly horrible.

Dash blinks harshly at him, damn near squeaking out, “holy fuck”, before shaking his head a fair few times and then really looks at Danny, “ah shit”, mumbling to himself, “I don’t even know if he can, I don’t know, die? like this?”. Danny is confused but can not be bothered enough to care, especially with that… that scent spiking.

That fear? scent… and taste if he’s honest with himself. He doesn’t want to hurt… and this is Dash. So he just kinda lets the sucking in, absorbing, feeding, or whatever, happen while Dash pushes himself up some. The jock shouting at the door, “hey! Hey! Could I, like, get a doctor over here right now!”, muttering down at Danny, “fuck Fenton, you picked a really crappy hospital to start dying at”.

Danny glares at the sky faintly, the slight pain of that making him clench his teeth, “hey… you picked it to, dickweed”, and starts hacking faintly and practically uncontrollably. It’s official, Danny’s just vibing, and hacking now, on the cold hard ground while actively leeching off Dash’s fear. Because damnit, his not about to feel guilty over feeding off of Dash’s fear of all people. He refuses.

Eventually Dash pipes back up, apparently regaining some of his nerve, “so… Phantom, Huh?”.

Danny wheezes, what the fuck honestly, “dick… weed”.

Dash just rolls his eyes at him before covering his mouth with his hands and hunching down on the ground, actively trying to recover from the damn good fright shaking Fenton… or Phantom… or however this worked, gave him. “Oh stuff it. It’s not like there’s another explanation. I’m a D student with no future outside football but I’m not blind”.

“Coulda fooled me”.

Dash actually stomps on Danny’s foot for that one which just makes Danny growl at him enough to make him ‘eep’ and jerk away. Danny smirking like a dumbass before shaking his head and looking up at the sky. The doctor or nurses weren’t coming were they. Groaning, “fuck”, and wheezing a little weirdly over the weird sweet sweat tang taste of what was apparently Dash’s fear literally seeping into his pores. God he can taste blood in the back of his throat and he’s not sure if that’s his own actual blood or just part of this fear taste bullshit, “this. This is super not great”.

“What?”, Dash snorts, “you laying on the ground in some alleyway, or you getting a kick out of scaring the crap out of me”.

“Did you… seriously just admit I, loser Fenton, scared you”.

Dash gives a very judgmental, “dude”, in response to that. But hey! At least Danny feels less like hot garbage made out of pain and needles and burnt hot sauce and acid ice now.

Danny scoffs anyway, “I didn’t get ‘a kick’ out of nothin-”.

Dash actually has the guts to cut him off, “oh bullshit. If anyone knows what the look of enjoying tormenting and scaring someone else looks likes, it’s me and you know it”.

Now that? that actually pisses Danny off a little bit. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, “I am nothing, fucking nothing, like you, Dash. So shove a sock in it or-”, baring his teeth a little, “-I’ll do it for you”.

Dash makes the wise decision to get up and put his hands up in surrender, and Danny can tell he’s startled the guy again. Wonderful… he’s not even sure if that ‘wonderful’ is sarcastic or not which is a fucking problem. Dash puts his hands back down and glares, “you dream you could be like me”, sighing and looking up at the sky like whatever the Hell is taking all his strength, before looking back down to Danny, “and if you ain’t ‘like me’ then what the Hell, man”.

Danny scowls at him, frustrated, and, frankly, still kinda in pain and with zero interest in actually getting up, “I don’t know, dude! It’s, like, some ghost fear feeding thing or whatever”, pausing and scowling to himself this time, snapping, “why am I even explaining this to you?!?”.

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s because you apparently freaking fed on my fear?!?! Is that seriously a thing?!?”.

“You’re asking me that like I know!”.

“WELL YOU’RE THE GHOST!”.

“FUCK YOU!”.

The shouting match inevitably turns into Dash lunging down at Danny and the two rolling around on the ground kicking and punching each other; both dealing with some serious misplaced aggression and pain (though Danny was ahead by miles in the pain department. Not by as much as he would have been previously though). The whole thing ending with Danny effectively pinning Dash to the ground.

Danny snapping, “Ancients you are such a dick!”.

Dash sputters and spits out some of the ground nasties, craning his head to look at Danny, “and apparently real pain makes you a dick too!”.  Which actually makes Danny still and pause, giving a very monotoned shocked, “what”, in response. Dash rolls his eyes very aggressively at that, “oh come on, as if I don’t know what ‘Fenton in pain’ looks like”.

Danny honestly losses it a little at that, “WELL EVERYONE ELSE DOESN’T SEEM TO THINK SO!”, and his voice is loud/powerful enough to make the walls and ground shake a little.

Dash swallowing, startled, before replying to that load of horse crap, “why the fuck?!?”. Which Danny growls at, “I. Don’t. Know”, snapping, “it is fucking stupid and why are you the goddamn exception?!?”.

The two just stare at each other for a hot minute before Dash gives a response that is way too calm for either of their likings for a multitude of reasons, “Dale’s home life is kinda shit and adults prefer to pretend that shit just ain’t happening”.

“Oh”.

-

Apparently the shaking finally, finally, got someone to actually come out though. A nurse slamming open the backdoor and shouting, “what are you doing!?! Get off of him right this instant!”. Danny does actually snap his hands off of Dash’s arms/wrists immediately, scrambling up quickly -which his bones have a fair few fucking complaints to voice about that- followed by Dash. The lady takes one look at Dash before glaring at Danny again and snapping, “don’t go around harassing people who clearly need actual medical attention”.

Ten bucks says she’s read his bullshit ‘medical file’ aka all the notes all the previous whoever’s wrote calling him a crazed up druggy loonie or whatever else. Fun. No wonder the waiting room was taking so long. They were just waiting for him to give up and leave, and had no intention of actually getting him in to see anyone. Probably wouldn’t even bother the janitor with his -very real GO FUCK YOURSELF- problem(s). Ancients he kinda wants to punch her just to scare the crap out of her, which he is absolutely blaming that horrific train of thought on Dash.

Apparently, he also gets to blame Dash for saving him from a scolding and/or being banned from the premises. When the jock asshole, who’s slightly less of an asshole than he was previously, snaps right back, “hey yo lady, he actually needs actual medical attention to”. She gives Dash that kind of look that all adults give kids when they think kids have no fucking clue what they’re talking about purely because they’re kids. God Danny hates that look so damn much. And frankly, he is not in the mood right now; hence why he snarls at her slightly. Dash apparently is having none of it too, glaring, “lady just deal with both of us before I start smacking my wrist on the walls”. Which honestly just throws Danny through a loop, making him look to the taller teen, “why are you defending me”.

Dash responds while the nurse waves them in with an eye roll, “because I’m a dick, not a dickweed”.

“There are a million smarter ways you could have said that”.

“Oh shut up, Fenton”.

They both actually smirk after that surprisingly. But even more surprisingly, when they’re both ushered in, Dash insists on ‘sitting in’ with Danny for his ‘check up’ aka another bout of some doctor(s)/nurse(s) telling him he’s full of shit or his heads all kinds of fucked up. Danny is ten seconds away from thinking Dash is starting to go all hero worshiper on him but gets promptly saved from that train of thought by his body actually deciding that yeah no it’s had enough of this shit -fear feeding notwithstanding-

and makes blood start leaking out of his eyes.

Which of course results in that fear scent of Dash’s spiking, “oh my god”. And then the doctor coming in, which is also followed by some fear scent spiking. And then he pitches forwards, passing out like he’s kinda longed to do for fucking weeks, and then bashing his head -eye sockets specifically and simultaneously somehow- off of the ceramic counter thing before Dash and the doctor guy actually managed to catch his limp body. But hey! Yummy fear! And he was too fucked up to really be bothered by said yummy whatever the fuck.

---

And what did Danny get to wake up to? Why doctor guys probable voice of course!

“Whatever it was did permanent damage to his eyes I’m afraid; he’ll need glasses”.

Wee. Fun. Not.

“Well maybe if someone other than me, which even I can see is fucked up that the loser’s -or whatever- personal bully believed him straight off but none of you other idiots did?!?”.

Was that seriously Dash? Now this Danny has to open his eyes for. At least he doesn’t feel like his entire orbital bone is being pressurised anymore!

Annnnnnnnnd… nothing. Darkness. He’s blind. Sweeeeeeeet. At least he’s sitting up.

“Oh sweetie let me get that for you!”.

Cool cool. Mom’s also here. With a caring tone that isn’t weirdly condescending/disappointed. Fancy that. And she apparently unwraps the bandages that were apparently around his head and eyes. So not blind then. Good honestly, but better than good is the skin contact doesn’t feel like someone’s trying to smush flaming gooping marshmallows into his face.

The doctor, because of course, has objections, “ma’am you really shouldn’t-”.

“Oh hush, I’m a doctor too and unlike you I know my boys healing”.

Dash audibly scoffs, “and yet you couldn’t see he was actually hurting?”; once the bandages are off full Danny can clearly see that Dash’s -why does it have to be him who’s protecting him?- arms are crossed.

“He didn’t actually seem-!”.

Danny interrupts at this point, largely because he was honestly still kinda pissed with his parents, mom included, “enough. Y’all are giving me a headache”. Dash, the ass, actually snorts at that, “well duh, you cracked your head off a sink, man. What’d ya expect, turd”.

Ah okay, so unimaginative name-calling was still a-okay, hero-worship or no, Danny scaring the guy or no, and the dude being not-a-dickweed or no.

His mom glares at Dash, “don’t you dare insult my b-”.  With Danny cutting her off again, “mom no”, shaking his head and glaring at her, “just no”; and tries not to stare, or flinch, at the fear scent thing coming off her slightly or the fact that he can actually see it wafting off her body. What the actual fuck? Guess his eyes did actually get fucked with. Wonderful. Here he was thinking he was in the clear just ‘cause his vision seemed fine. Whelp, maybe glasses will magic that little side-effect away.

(Wonderfully they, in fact did, but less wonderfully they also fogged up black and literally wafted off black mist whenever he did pick up any kind of fear. Had he passed that off as some weird-ass sunglasses? Yes, abso-fucking-lutely yes. Did Dash believe that? No, since for once the jock was choosing to not be a stupid meathead. Queue ‘someone’s got Venom eyes but for fear not flesh’ insults, which damnit, were at least marginally clever half the time. The only saving grace was he could still see through the black fogging and said black fogging apparently destroyed the ‘prescription’ the glasses once had, which was nice since that ‘prescription’ actually made it harder to see. But whatever. Not like that matters much when he just. kept. on. destroying the damn things. Superpowers plus glass equals bad; even if they were FentonWorks grade reinforced).

Fuck his half-life.

Dash looking smug right now doesn’t help. So Danny snaps a death glare at him too and tries to make it look as murderous as possible. Getting a solid jerk, yelp, and fear scent/waft for his efforts; which Danny relents and rolls his eyes at. Dash scowling and working to compose himself, huffing, “well whatever. Since no one’s gonna be bleeding out from their eyes or whatever I’m gonna go and actually get my shit fixed”. The doctor seems to relax a little at that.

Danny just blinks, did Dash seriously refuse medical treatment till he was ‘okay’. Ugh should that be creepy, or touching, or just fucking weird. Blinking at the jock, “dude”.

“Oh don’t ‘dude’ me”, Dash scowls, turns on his heel, and stalks off. Quickly being carted away by a nurse or something. Did Dash just call out his self-sacrificial tendencies? Or is Danny just reading way too much into things. It was easier to think -overthinking included- now after all.

Ancients how long had it been since everything had just been… pain? Too long clearly; fuck. But also, Dash better keep his whatever to his damn self. ‘Cause frankly?

Danny firmly wants to tell no one about the fear feeding because as far as he’s concerned they have no goddamn right to know. Not now, not ever.

Trust, Danny’s decided, wasn’t something that someone could ‘earn back’ from him. Especially over him being in pain. Even more especially when he wasn’t about to forget the absolute Hell worth of pain his body, core specifically, decided to put him through, WHICH COULD HAVE HONESTLY BEEN EASILY FIXED IF SOMEONE HAD JUST. FUCKING. LISTENED. They believed him now… probably… but that changed jack fuck all in his opinion. Like, seriously.

-

(And Dash later on telling him that it shouldn’t change anything anyway was something Danny wasn’t going to think about. Because agreeing with Dash was all kinds of ick. But there was a slight positive of Dash being slightly less dickish towards him and Danny laughed his ass off at all the guys Phantom posters miraculously disappearing. Plus it was very easy to startle Dash now; which, yeah, fuck if he cares about scaring/fear-feeding off Dash of all people. The jock seemingly tolerating it was decidedly weird though; honestly? the guy probably viewed it as ‘helping out his hero’ in a weird way… which wasn’t even wrong. Dude clearly realised Danny’s… fear issue was a need, annoyingly enough.

Dash legitimately approaching him with the ‘you could just join the football team and start wailing on the nerds’ option for dealing with his ahem ‘fear issues’ was absolutely not a welcome one though and absolutely turned into another mild floor brawling match. Danny did, however, agree to teaming up with the football bros to scare the absolute crap out of Dale’s parents; and maybe said scaring involved overly graphic descriptions of what being denailed feels like that were way too detailed to be anything other than legitimately recent first-hand experience).

End

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