I can stand on my toes but I can’t bend my foot. My foot is just plain effed. A visit to the doc in the box confirmed it. And while I get a few weeks (if I can stand it) in a sexy shoe, I’m haunted by injuries past.
The breaks and sprains don’t bother me, it’s the stupid ways in which I have achieved such injuries that causes me shame.
If you haven’t been defeated by a basketball or a set of two stairs then maybe you hopped an electric fence, but no matter, because I know you have a story so dumb that you are embarrassed to share it. Below you will find better plausible stories to use when asked about the nature of your injury.
Saving a kitten from a tree
If you aren’t a firefighter (sorry firefighters, this is your fucking job) then this is a great way to explain away numerous injuries. Think about your extremities, your head and neck, the distance to the ground.
You saved the life of a baby cat, it doesn’t matter about contusions, fractures, sprain, or strains. You don’t need a ticker tape parade (winky face). Your just happy the kitten is safe.
You were escaping a stalled car on train tracks
Trains kill. No one will judge you for getting the hell out of the way. Self-preservation and all that.
Trains traveling at 55 miles per hour take over a mile to come to a complete stop. With that in mind save this excuse for running and falling injuries. It’s believeable that you tripped and shredded the skin off your arms not if you bribed your genitals in a fire.
Probably don’t use this one if your car shows no visible damage. It is perfect if you get a new car though.
Stamping out fireworks that were endangering small children
You’ve been warned to not cook bacon naked lik 42 billion times and yet you insist that it’s the only way to make breakfast.
When you have to explain all the little blisters to a lover or a doctor don’t share your tales of popping grease, go with fireworks and small children.
You risked your life and are lucky to walk away with just little burns.
You wrestled a large predator
Bears and crocodiles will fuck you up just as badly, if not worse, than tangling yourself in a rusty barbed wire fence.
Both leave you in need of a tetanus booster, and a decent skin care regimen to minimize minimize (or maximize, depending on how faithful to your story you plan on being) scarring.
Scars or no, you wrestled the beast, and won.