The Fireplace Incident of 1998
I came out of the surf yesterday with blood oozing down my knees and shins. It looked grave but I felt rather like a warrior. I gritted my teeth and thought of Mel Gibson in his Braveheart being tortured and still refusing to give in.
I was reminded of the year 1998 when I was hoovering my ex's living room and accidentally knocked my head over the sharp corner of the fireplace. When I looked up the mirror I saw blood all over my face pouring from that 1 cm hole in the middle of my forehead. My ex's friend, Cristopher, happened to be in the house reading some magazine so I called out to him because I suspected I was going to faint any time soon. Chris ran into the room and saw me with blood gushing out of my head, the thick red liquid covering my face like Sissy Spacek in Carrey. Any normal human being would have run out of the room then to grab some towels to stop my bleeding. Chris ran out of the room to grab his camera. "Look here," he said and snapped my picture. "That was cool," he said before running out again to look for a towel.
As there was no first-aid kit or any bandage in the house I had to run to Boots to grab the necessary bandage. Some unseen forces must have pushed me for as I was crossing the zebra-crossing I tripped and fell on both knees so I must then run to Boots limping with blood on both knees.
I walked with a bad limp for the next few days and a bandage across my forehead. I went in to clubs and bars and the bodyguards and fellow dancers thought I was this chick with some form of walking disability so they took pity on me but I could see the admiration all over their faces as I gritted my teeth and danced my night away and for that few days I was treated with sympathetic kindness from everybody as befits those in the less fortunate lot.
I was reminded of the year 1998 when I was hoovering my ex's living room and accidentally knocked my head over the sharp corner of the fireplace. When I looked up the mirror I saw blood all over my face pouring from that 1 cm hole in the middle of my forehead. My ex's friend, Cristopher, happened to be in the house reading some magazine so I called out to him because I suspected I was going to faint any time soon. Chris ran into the room and saw me with blood gushing out of my head, the thick red liquid covering my face like Sissy Spacek in Carrey. Any normal human being would have run out of the room then to grab some towels to stop my bleeding. Chris ran out of the room to grab his camera. "Look here," he said and snapped my picture. "That was cool," he said before running out again to look for a towel.
As there was no first-aid kit or any bandage in the house I had to run to Boots to grab the necessary bandage. Some unseen forces must have pushed me for as I was crossing the zebra-crossing I tripped and fell on both knees so I must then run to Boots limping with blood on both knees.
I walked with a bad limp for the next few days and a bandage across my forehead. I went in to clubs and bars and the bodyguards and fellow dancers thought I was this chick with some form of walking disability so they took pity on me but I could see the admiration all over their faces as I gritted my teeth and danced my night away and for that few days I was treated with sympathetic kindness from everybody as befits those in the less fortunate lot.
posted by Strawberrysurf at 12:52 am
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