Illustration by Bob AulYou: No costume at a Gilligan's Island party.
Me: Thurston Howell III, bumping and grinding, dirty dancing with you to Peaches' “Diddle My Skittle.” We get more intimate. I think I'm in love. I reach around for a grope. You turn me around. Rage explodes in your eyes like a muzzle flash, and you pop me a sharp right jab to the kisser. My eyes water, my mouth swells, the room spins, and I know as certainly as I've known anything: I'm in love!
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