Alright, I was going to save this for later, but knowing me I'll probably forget, so in order to keep this week's theme of klunks, bumps, bleeding heads and bandages I'll recount the worst head injury I've had so far in life...
It was a dark a stormy night.
Two teenagers had been battling it out all day on a lonely street basketball ring on who was the better player. Only a solitary street light and frequent flashes of lightning kept the court illuminated.
No one backed down.
No one accepted defeat.
As the darkness thickened it became more and more of an impossible task of finding the location of the basketball hoop. Eventually both players agreed to a next score wins arrangement... it was getting late.
The faster player of the two laughed mockingly at the new winning rule and with the ball in his hands speedily ran past the taller (more handsome, more athletic, more BETTER) player.
The tactic had paid off for him... the winning score was only feet away.
The taller's players eyes bulged like saucers at the sudden movement, muscles stretched as they tried to catch the more nimble boy who was now only a step away from victory.
The ball was soon tossed from the nimble player's hand...
It sailed victoriously through the air...
It's inevitable destination the hoop... the winning score... the triumphant one.
BUT... the taller player didn't lie down. In a desperate bid to alter the ball's winning flight path he shot out his hand towards the ball... his fingers went from a distance of feet to inches... inches to centimeters... centimeters to millimeters... millimeters to nanometers (?!)...
HE TOUCHED IT!!!
The ball's flight path was rocked, its direction altered, it skidded away from the hoop and prevented the winning score. BUT... the flight path of the taller player's head began beeping emergency signals it was heading straight towards one of the metal beams supporting the very basketball hoop he was trying to protect...
IT WAS TOO LATE!!
Lightning cracked... and eventually somebody's head.
The taller player still maintained to land on his feet. The nimbler player not aware of what all the noise was about deperately flung himself at the missed shot and hurriedly put the ball back through the hoop.
"WOOOHOOO!" he screamed gleefully jumping in the air, "I WIN!!!"
There was no response from the taller player.
Noticing the taller player's lack of appreciation the smaller one came over and asked what was wrong.
"Nothin. I'm fine, just a bump on my head."
"Let me see," he asked.
What felt like sweat pouring down the side of the taller man's face was quickly wiped by his navy blue t-shirt. He moved his head to the street light's mellow light and allowed the smaller player to see if it was anything bad.
"%$#@!" he remarked.
"What?" asked the taller player concerned at his friend's sudden change of demeanour.
"You've actually got a brain!"
They both laughed.
"And I won," the smaller player added.
"Well, I'm going to head off now - I've got a throbbing headache," said the taller player as he picked up his ball and headed off the court.
The smaller player waved goodbye and both headed off in their separate directions home.
On the way home the taller player couldn't believe the amount of sweat pouring from his head. He continually wiped and wiped with his t-shirt, but the "sweat" just wouldn't go away.
Maybe I did cut myself, thought the tall handsome man.
As he arrived home his mother was the first to meet him... and she nearly had a heart-attack...
"OH MY GOD!!! WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU???"
She covered her mouth, shocked at the sight that stood before her... was it even her son???
The boy, now in the light, looked at himself: blood seemed to be everywhere!
"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE???" screamed his mother.
"I just hit my head... it's no big deal - I'll go and have a shower and clean up," replied the boy, the stupid boy, the boy with NO brains.
In the shower water was applied to the wound and boy did he know he was alive. After cleaning his body and surveying the wound from the bathroom mirror he didn't understand what all the fuss was about - it was just a cut at the top of head the size and shape of an average eyebrow... big deal?
Not long after the shower though the world began to wobble a little more on its axis than it normally did. The boy's father came over and asked the reason for why his wife was in super-stress mode.
"It's nothing," the boy said.
"Like hell it isn't," replied the father, "let me take a look."
The boy didn't want to make a big fuss about such a small cut, but showing one other person probably wouldn't matter. So, he showed his father the cut hoping that he would be able to prove that it was just a scratch.
"Okay..." his father started as he probed around the open wound, "...you're going to need to get stitches."
"Oh come on," protested the silly boy, "it's just a small cut - I'm fine, I'm fine, really."
"No - you're not."
And that was the end of the argument.
The boy had no further say. After going through a few flanels with his blood his father dragged him to the local doctor.
As the doctor surveyed the scene he didn't beat around the bush:
"You're going to need stitches."
By now the boy had reserved himself to the fact that he was going to have them so now it was just a matter of how many...
"Maybe four or five," answered the doc.
"Kewl," remarked the boy knowing that he could brag to all his friends at school that he had stitches, "can I get more?"
Silly boy - never ask for more stitches.
I wonder who that silly boy was?
10 hours ago