Scab
I got nothin' here...
It was Saturday. I rose early to get a start on my day. As per my usual routine, I brushed the nights growth of fungus from my teeth. Then I reached for the mouthwash. I immediately noticed that the cap had not been screwed back on but was just sitting on top of the plastic bottle. Not surprising, since my wife had already been here and I remembered that she has trouble with those caps. You know the ones. The ones that have those nastly little child-proof latches moulded into the neck of the bottle, requiring that you have the grip of polydent so that you can squeeze the living daylights out of the cap while you twist it for removal.
Geez, I am slipping on my job. It is my job to removing these annoying tabs and this bottle is already three days into use.
I go retrieve one of my knives. I pick one of my more sturdy knives. A Gerber lock-blade with a fairly thick blade. These little mouthwash bottle tabs are deceptively stout.
I wedge the blade in between the neck of the bottle and one of the tabs which is offset on a little colar. The cutting edge is facing me with the tip of the blade pointing towards my left. I pry and pull in a see-saw action that brings a quick demise to the frustrating little tab. One down, one to go. I spin the bottle 180 degrees and launch attack number two. Same attack. Die, little tab, die. Oh, no. My angle of attack is a little off. I am a little bit high on the mark. There is going to be some tab remaining. This will never do. I remove the knife and realign for attack number three. This is going to take a little more twist on the blade. I am having to be very careful now and use more force so the blade doesn't slip up into the previous gouge. Oh, yeah, it's working. Pull. Pull. Harder, harder. Twist...
BAM! Tab is destroyed!
And the knife is now about an inch deep into my left arm. Shit.
Well, it's one of those times where the body knows what's coming before the brain has time to comprehend. I had already put the knife down and now I turned my attention to the arm to see what damage was done. This is where it gets weird. The wound had already started to respond to the attack and was gaping open. Wide. Funny thing is that the blood was slow on getting to the party. Without thinking, my right hand tried to reunite the two newly seperated halves of skin and simultaneously applied the GI Joe Kung Fu grip. Up above the heart the arm goes, kinda like some dumbass salute. Yeah, any dumbass would have recognized the salute because right now I was their supreme commander.
I better go wake up boy. He's gonna like this.
He is my son, Andrew. I call him boy. It works for us.
So, I called to him and told him to wake up, that I had a little emergency that required his attention. He mumbled from somewhere under the pile of blankets: "What'd you do?"
"I stabbed myself with a knife."
"Let me get my contacts in," was the reply. No shock. No surprise. WTF? Oh, yeah, that supreme commander thing.
Back to the bathroom.
It seems boy is a cool as a cucumber under pressure. And he is quite skilled at applying a tournequette. Who knew? He proceeded to thouroughly clean the wound with hydrogen peroxide. Of course now the blood remembered that it was fluid and I promptly redecorated the bathroom in crime-scene red.
"So," I asked boy, "Do you want to stitch this up or do you want me to go to the doctor?"
"I'll do it." Was the a-little-too-quick reply.
Out comes the sewing supplies. We soaked some nylon thread in alcohol, along with a standard sewing needle. Sewing needles, by the way, weren't meant for skin. (just in case you didn't already know) I held the two halves together and boy proceeded to poke holes around my new hole. For some reason, one half was easily pierced but the other half resisted. After three holes (all on one side of the wound), we called the game due to rain and dressed the area for the ride to the real doctor. It was a nice dressing, comprised of one extra-large band-aid, three peices of gauze, and duct tape. 200 mph tested, Nascar approved. Where's Jeff Foxworthy when you need him? (You might be a redneck if...you stab yourself with your own knife, then patch it back together with duct tape.)
Several hours, eight stitches, and one tetanus shot later, all is well with the world.
Except for one little bit of business. I don't know for sure which forum member is currently holding the dumbass award, but you have been dethroned. Please send me the trophy.
Geez, I am slipping on my job. It is my job to removing these annoying tabs and this bottle is already three days into use.
I go retrieve one of my knives. I pick one of my more sturdy knives. A Gerber lock-blade with a fairly thick blade. These little mouthwash bottle tabs are deceptively stout.
I wedge the blade in between the neck of the bottle and one of the tabs which is offset on a little colar. The cutting edge is facing me with the tip of the blade pointing towards my left. I pry and pull in a see-saw action that brings a quick demise to the frustrating little tab. One down, one to go. I spin the bottle 180 degrees and launch attack number two. Same attack. Die, little tab, die. Oh, no. My angle of attack is a little off. I am a little bit high on the mark. There is going to be some tab remaining. This will never do. I remove the knife and realign for attack number three. This is going to take a little more twist on the blade. I am having to be very careful now and use more force so the blade doesn't slip up into the previous gouge. Oh, yeah, it's working. Pull. Pull. Harder, harder. Twist...
BAM! Tab is destroyed!
And the knife is now about an inch deep into my left arm. Shit.
Well, it's one of those times where the body knows what's coming before the brain has time to comprehend. I had already put the knife down and now I turned my attention to the arm to see what damage was done. This is where it gets weird. The wound had already started to respond to the attack and was gaping open. Wide. Funny thing is that the blood was slow on getting to the party. Without thinking, my right hand tried to reunite the two newly seperated halves of skin and simultaneously applied the GI Joe Kung Fu grip. Up above the heart the arm goes, kinda like some dumbass salute. Yeah, any dumbass would have recognized the salute because right now I was their supreme commander.
I better go wake up boy. He's gonna like this.
He is my son, Andrew. I call him boy. It works for us.
So, I called to him and told him to wake up, that I had a little emergency that required his attention. He mumbled from somewhere under the pile of blankets: "What'd you do?"
"I stabbed myself with a knife."
"Let me get my contacts in," was the reply. No shock. No surprise. WTF? Oh, yeah, that supreme commander thing.
Back to the bathroom.
It seems boy is a cool as a cucumber under pressure. And he is quite skilled at applying a tournequette. Who knew? He proceeded to thouroughly clean the wound with hydrogen peroxide. Of course now the blood remembered that it was fluid and I promptly redecorated the bathroom in crime-scene red.
"So," I asked boy, "Do you want to stitch this up or do you want me to go to the doctor?"
"I'll do it." Was the a-little-too-quick reply.
Out comes the sewing supplies. We soaked some nylon thread in alcohol, along with a standard sewing needle. Sewing needles, by the way, weren't meant for skin. (just in case you didn't already know) I held the two halves together and boy proceeded to poke holes around my new hole. For some reason, one half was easily pierced but the other half resisted. After three holes (all on one side of the wound), we called the game due to rain and dressed the area for the ride to the real doctor. It was a nice dressing, comprised of one extra-large band-aid, three peices of gauze, and duct tape. 200 mph tested, Nascar approved. Where's Jeff Foxworthy when you need him? (You might be a redneck if...you stab yourself with your own knife, then patch it back together with duct tape.)
Several hours, eight stitches, and one tetanus shot later, all is well with the world.
Except for one little bit of business. I don't know for sure which forum member is currently holding the dumbass award, but you have been dethroned. Please send me the trophy.
