See how that big dent in our Murano's fender matches the size and shape of my melon. That's not a coincidence. I was just minding my own business, hanging out under the front of the Murano, when Raquelle throws the car in gear, slams on the gas, and pins my head between the fender and the garage door. In a great battle of wits, the fender bent its will to mine under the excuriating pressure.
Now you can believe that story, or the one that Raquelle tells everyone. It's about how she was shopping in Target for two hours (I swear she could miss the Apolycalypse and the Second Coming in Target), and some car pulled a parking lot "hit and run". Bummer of a birthmark, Hal.
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