It was a rainy Spring day about ten years ago when it happened. The event that changed the landscape of my ass forever. Leaving my second floor apartment wearing flip flops and carrying and entire semester worth of text books I ran down the slippery wood steps.
This wasn't just a fall. It was like a scene from a cartoon. I became airborne. I'm fairly certain that my feet came up over my head before I landed ass first on the steps and slid down toward the bottom. My roommate, Kelli Watson, didn't even know where to begin. I knocked the wind out of myself and starting making caveman grunting sounds trying to breath again. She asked, "Should should I call an ambulance?"
By the time I drove the two hours home and straight to the doctors office my mom works for I was falling apart. The final score was two sprained ankles, a back spasm, pulled muscles and a dent in my ass. I fell so hard the edge of the steps actually rearranged the fat - permanently! I had no idea human flesh could turn black-purple-red and take on the consistency of applesauce.
Then last night, it happened again. Famous last words were "Josh, you carry Jackson and I will carry the drinks. I don't want you to fall down the steps." The last step was a silent killer. All Josh heard were the drinks exiting the cups, not even a thud. I laid in the grass on top of Diet Coke and rum trying to form words.
Ouch! Stupid wood stairs!
No comments:
Post a Comment