I can't really think of anything to write about today. I'm tired. I don't want to leave you hanging, so I just went to a website that randomly generates words. Whatever word comes up...I'm gonna write about the first memory associated to that word.
Tongue.
Okay. That really is random. Hmmm.
When I was about seven or eight my grandmother asked me to carry a TV upstairs. It was a small 13 inch black and white TV so it technically wasn't "Prince of Egypt...Build My Pyramid...Let My People Go" slave labor. Anyway, I didn't think to wrap up the cord before I picked it up, so of course I tripped on it half way up the stairs. They all came running when they heard me fall (to see if the tv was broken) and when it was determined that the screen wasn't cracked they walked away. I started crying and that brought them back.
Somehow I bit a hole through my tongue...literally. It went straight through and that freaked me out. By now you should know better than to think that this story ends at a doctor's office. My grandmother gave me some salt water and told me to swirl it around for a while...then go lay down. That's the whole story.
That's only 211 words. What else you got, word generator? Wheel of Morality turn, turn, turn. Tell us the lesson that we should learn!
Fence?
Ooookay. I feel like I'm in a memory freestyle battle.
Uh, one day me and my friend were playing basketball on a court that closed after dark. We climbed over the fence to get in because the gate was locked and after we were done we went back the way we came. Now this was in the "welcome to puberty" years when the new "manly" features attracted the ire of the police for no apparent reason. The cops used to stop me for all kinds of random things around the ages of 13-15. I remember one time a cop rode by me, backed up the car and got out to tell me to stand against a wall and prove that I'd purchased the 35 cent CVS Gold Emblem generic Sprite that I was drinking...Or Imma lock your ass up! Um, there's a receipt in my pocket next to a pack of Reese Cups.
Anyway, I remember one of us seeing a cop ride by and thinking they'd try to lock us up for trespassing, so we tried to hurry up and get over that fence. Of course when I got to the top of it and had one leg over it, I slipped. I didn't fall to the ground though because the wiry part of the fence got caught in the crotch of my jeans. I tried to get the other leg over, but I was caught...not just in the fabric of the jeans but in some other place near and dear to my heart.
Now this fence was like eight or nine feet high, and not really made for climbing, so I was trying to wiggle free without tearing anything open and at the same time without falling to the concrete below. In my head the situation was as intense as the scene in Jurassic Park when they're climbing over the electric fence as the lady is turning the power back on.
My friend didn't know why I was working so carefully to free myself and he decided to climb back up to "help" me. Somewhere in his deranged mind he thought that he could just pull my foot or something and that would wiggle my jeans free. I was in too much pain to explain that the jeans weren't the only thing caught, but I just couldn't find the words to explain. Words were coming out, but it was more like an opera performed by an all-Tourette Syndrome cast.
So he made the decision to save himself and run. At that point I was actually hoping it was a cop, because he could call for the fire department and an ambulance. It ended up being a HUD Cop who was parking to go to the store. He didn't pay me any attention. I ended up slipping and falling off completely. Miraculously, I was okay. Slightly perforated, but okay.
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