E.T.'s Sister?

Story Sent in by Richard:

Martha and I went on a stroll at a local pond. I had been there a few times before, and she claimed to have gone dozens of times. It was our first time meeting, after we had gotten to know each other online.

Martha had some issues with her skirt. Mainly, that she had worn one on a breezy spring day. More than once, during our walk, I saw a bit more of her than she probably would've liked, and I offered her my light jacket, suggesting that she could tie it around her waist or what-have-you. She thanked me but refused my offer.

When we had completed a full circuit around the pond, which took us about 40 minutes, I asked if she wanted to get lunch. She asked me if I wanted to walk around the pond again. I told her that maybe we could take another walk after lunch. She seemed bummed about going for lunch, but ultimately came along with me, away from the pond.

On our way back to town, we walked through a suburban neighborhood. Five kids, who couldn't have been older than 11, drove toward us on bikes, around a corner.

"Get her!" one of them shouted, and Martha yelped and ran across the closest yard and around the back of the house.

The bikers flew past me so fast that I didn't have time to say more than, "Uh—" or "What?" I can't remember which, but either would've been just as useless. The kids pedaled further down the street and disappeared around another corner.

I followed in Martha's tracks, to the backyard of the house, hoping to, I don't know, protect her? Were those kids going to circle around and trap her back there? I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew that five on one was an unfair fight.

Ultimately she must've had wings (or I was too slow, or both), because I didn't see a sign of her when I got to the backyard. The grass ran past a plastic slide to a slope covered with trees.

I hope that Martha was able to avoid those guys, because I never saw her again. In retrospect, maybe I should've written to her.


  1. Why bother? The dead can't write back.

  2. Obviously she paid the kids off to get out of such an awful date.

  3. If you suggest something that makes your date 'bummed', I'd probably not go along with it. Sad date equals bad date.

  4. Maybe it not too late to write her now op did you think of that? and there are alot of ways to get someone. maybe the only deicded to pelt her with water ballnoons.

  5. Dude, how do you not contact her to at least find out if she was OK?

  6. This story totally freaks me out...so I'll go with my original crude jokes before the story took the weird turn.

    She wanted to stay close to the pond so she would have a reason for that fishy smell you kept getting a whiff of. Also, what was for lunch, tuna fish sandwiches?

    I know, sad and crude. What can I say, I'm pathetic and childish.


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.

Content Policy

A Bad Case of the Dates reserves the right to publish or not publish any submitted content at any time, and by submitting content to A Bad Case of the Dates, you retain original copyright, but are granting us the right to post, edit, and/or republish your content forever and in any media throughout the universe. If Zeta Reticulans come down from their home planet to harvest bad dating stories, you could become an intergalactic megastar. Go you!

A Bad Case of the Dates is not responsible for user comments. We also reserve the right to delete any comments at any time and for any reason. We're hoping to not have to, though.

Aching to reach us? abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.