| 12:14 AM |
My Hallux! |
Three days ago I stared my own mortality in the face(It wasn't a very attractive one now that I think about it). I should have seen it coming, things were just going too well. I had on my red snowman pants, mug of beer lodged firmly in my hand, yes life was good.......then it happened.
I've tried to figure out exactly what it was...could it have been my clammy feet? Or could the fault have lied with some disgruntled, counter-revolutionary at the factory that produced my blue plastic slippers? In any case, who benifits from finger pointing? The point is....it wasn't my fault.
I have a wound, thats right a wound. I've had cuts before, even dare I say a gash. This is different. The blood was pouring out by the quart, gritting my teeth I held the flap of skin and what I presumed to be the remainder of my toe together with my hand and hobbled up the stairs. At any momment I expect a posse of scalpel wielding MDs to walk into my room, restrain me and in unison tell me in dry monotone voices that my toe has to go. Needless to say I've been keeping my door locked.
In a nutshell: From what I've been able to deduce, running up the stairs 2 steps at a time I hit the edge of the marble stair with enough force to split my hallux in two. I'll keep you posted if/when it starts to turn green or smell a little like a French cheese cellar(I can't prove it but it sounds like something the french would have under their house).
Alright well I must turn in, until next time,
au revoir
I've tried to figure out exactly what it was...could it have been my clammy feet? Or could the fault have lied with some disgruntled, counter-revolutionary at the factory that produced my blue plastic slippers? In any case, who benifits from finger pointing? The point is....it wasn't my fault.
I have a wound, thats right a wound. I've had cuts before, even dare I say a gash. This is different. The blood was pouring out by the quart, gritting my teeth I held the flap of skin and what I presumed to be the remainder of my toe together with my hand and hobbled up the stairs. At any momment I expect a posse of scalpel wielding MDs to walk into my room, restrain me and in unison tell me in dry monotone voices that my toe has to go. Needless to say I've been keeping my door locked.
In a nutshell: From what I've been able to deduce, running up the stairs 2 steps at a time I hit the edge of the marble stair with enough force to split my hallux in two. I'll keep you posted if/when it starts to turn green or smell a little like a French cheese cellar(I can't prove it but it sounds like something the french would have under their house).
Alright well I must turn in, until next time,
au revoir
1 comments:
ach. you poor kid. get better.
your posts rock. the only reason i don't comment more is because my computer is stupid.:D
love you brah..
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