Thumb: The Danger-ing!!!
Everyone have a nice weekend? Yeah, was it calm and fun and a magical experience that brought you and your loved ones closer together like an atom bomb made of hugs? Oh that's wonderful... just wonderful... eh, what's that? How was my weekend? Oh, well... you know... it was great for the most part, enjoyed the cooler weather, watched some movies, and... oh yeah...
I NEARLY FUCKING DIED!!!
That's right, kiddos... your one and only C-dog had a brush with death so shocking, you're probably going to want to read the rest of this article with a fresh tank of oxygen, or at least a bottle of your favorite grain alcohol, just to keep you from freaking the fuck out!
I'll wait.
What's that... you're way ahead of me on the grain alcohol? Ah, that's my readership... add a little food coloring to make it festive!
Anyway, so I'm at a bar on Friday night and things are rocking along status quo. A couple of beers, some good conversation, lovely weather on the outside patio... a happy hour like any other. Except for, waiting in the wings... breathless and slimy... lurked DANGER!!!
After a an hour or so, the need to pee shows up and says, "Let's get on with it, hombre," so I head on to the bathroom; a one-seater with a toilet (of course), a sink, a mirror, and... DANGER!!!
I do my business, wash my hands, and turn around, only to be confronted by this... (DANGER!!!):
I mean, obviously I'd seen it already because I'd latched it when I came in. And, you know, the one pictured there isn't the exact same as the one in the bar bathroom but... whatever... cut me some slack, here. After all... DANGER!!! Anyway, I go to unlatch it and, to my surprise... to my horror... I discover that it is stuck. Like, it won't move from the "locked" position. I tug it and I yank on it and that's what she said and suddenly (DANGER!!!) it very quickly (DANGER!!!) becomes unstuck in as violent (DANGER!!!) a manner as possible. What happened next was... well, actually, let me first introduce you to my thumb...
Hell of a guy, my thumb. Extremely nice, quick with a joke, never hurt a fly... certainly, he didn't deserve THIS:
That's right. MUTILATION!!! When the lock suddenly became unstuck, it somehow managed to lop off a big chunk of poor, Mr. Thumbs-a-lot, leaving him mangled, gushing blood, and crying with big, open-mouthed sobs like a toddler trapped in a burning building full of all his toys. It was a bad scene, man... real bad. I stumbled about the place, blind with pain and rage, covered in blood like Drunk Dracula (Drunkula), screaming and babbling all crazy and writing satanic messages on the wall like in Sharon Tate's bedroom... I smashed up the bar and set it on fire and stole a car and extorted money from the government and tornadoed the whole wide world.
But then, fortune smiled upon me. Like this: (SMILE!!!)
I remembered that, because I'm a super genius who always comes to the bar prepared, I had a trained and handsome nurse just a few feet away! That's right, our boy Todd... all gallant and with medical knowledge bursting forth from his beautiful brain... and lucky for me, he wasn't too drunk yet!
I scampered over to him and thrust my icky, destroyed thumb at him and shrieked, "HELP ME MR. DOCTOR MAN!!!! OWWWWWW!!!!!" And he lifted me up in a fireman's carry and started shouting, "We need a crash cart in here! Scalpel!!! STAT!!!" And suddenly, before I knew what was what, I was healed! (HEALED!!!)
Well, okay, not "healed," so much as "bandaged up and rubbed down with Neosporin," but you know... whatever. Healed enough to the point where I now owe Todd one boon. Specifically, if anyone takes a shot at him... with a fist or a bullet or a long-range tactical missile... I'm contractually obligated to take that shot for him. That may seem a little extreme, but that's how it is. (EXTREME!!!)
So anyway, I've got a tore up thumb. It hurts, but not too much... I'm way too manly to cry (um... anymore) about it. The only thing now is to keep it clean, covered, and infection-free. Because, seriously, we don't want it to get infected:
I NEARLY FUCKING DIED!!!
That's right, kiddos... your one and only C-dog had a brush with death so shocking, you're probably going to want to read the rest of this article with a fresh tank of oxygen, or at least a bottle of your favorite grain alcohol, just to keep you from freaking the fuck out!
I'll wait.
What's that... you're way ahead of me on the grain alcohol? Ah, that's my readership... add a little food coloring to make it festive!
Anyway, so I'm at a bar on Friday night and things are rocking along status quo. A couple of beers, some good conversation, lovely weather on the outside patio... a happy hour like any other. Except for, waiting in the wings... breathless and slimy... lurked DANGER!!!
After a an hour or so, the need to pee shows up and says, "Let's get on with it, hombre," so I head on to the bathroom; a one-seater with a toilet (of course), a sink, a mirror, and... DANGER!!!
I do my business, wash my hands, and turn around, only to be confronted by this... (DANGER!!!):
I mean, obviously I'd seen it already because I'd latched it when I came in. And, you know, the one pictured there isn't the exact same as the one in the bar bathroom but... whatever... cut me some slack, here. After all... DANGER!!! Anyway, I go to unlatch it and, to my surprise... to my horror... I discover that it is stuck. Like, it won't move from the "locked" position. I tug it and I yank on it and that's what she said and suddenly (DANGER!!!) it very quickly (DANGER!!!) becomes unstuck in as violent (DANGER!!!) a manner as possible. What happened next was... well, actually, let me first introduce you to my thumb...
Hell of a guy, my thumb. Extremely nice, quick with a joke, never hurt a fly... certainly, he didn't deserve THIS:
That's right. MUTILATION!!! When the lock suddenly became unstuck, it somehow managed to lop off a big chunk of poor, Mr. Thumbs-a-lot, leaving him mangled, gushing blood, and crying with big, open-mouthed sobs like a toddler trapped in a burning building full of all his toys. It was a bad scene, man... real bad. I stumbled about the place, blind with pain and rage, covered in blood like Drunk Dracula (Drunkula), screaming and babbling all crazy and writing satanic messages on the wall like in Sharon Tate's bedroom... I smashed up the bar and set it on fire and stole a car and extorted money from the government and tornadoed the whole wide world.
But then, fortune smiled upon me. Like this: (SMILE!!!)
I remembered that, because I'm a super genius who always comes to the bar prepared, I had a trained and handsome nurse just a few feet away! That's right, our boy Todd... all gallant and with medical knowledge bursting forth from his beautiful brain... and lucky for me, he wasn't too drunk yet!
I scampered over to him and thrust my icky, destroyed thumb at him and shrieked, "HELP ME MR. DOCTOR MAN!!!! OWWWWWW!!!!!" And he lifted me up in a fireman's carry and started shouting, "We need a crash cart in here! Scalpel!!! STAT!!!" And suddenly, before I knew what was what, I was healed! (HEALED!!!)
Well, okay, not "healed," so much as "bandaged up and rubbed down with Neosporin," but you know... whatever. Healed enough to the point where I now owe Todd one boon. Specifically, if anyone takes a shot at him... with a fist or a bullet or a long-range tactical missile... I'm contractually obligated to take that shot for him. That may seem a little extreme, but that's how it is. (EXTREME!!!)
So anyway, I've got a tore up thumb. It hurts, but not too much... I'm way too manly to cry (um... anymore) about it. The only thing now is to keep it clean, covered, and infection-free. Because, seriously, we don't want it to get infected:
posted by Clinton at 8:24 AM
12 Comments:
C-Dog, thank goodness you are still alive and that Todd was there to save the day. Also he can coach you up on some vocabulary words as well.
And just what, pray tell, is wrong with my vocabulary? (WORDS!!!)
(COMMENT!!!)
i saw that picture of the latch and got scared (DANGER!!!!!!) cuz i thought maybe you bent over and got stabbed in the tookus by it or got your junk magled on it or something.
seriously,what kind of sadist builds a door latch with a fucking spike at the end of it!!!
MOMA called.
they wanted to offer you like a bajillion quadrilion dollars for your thumb sketch triptych entitled "man's pain and suffering" to add it to their permanent collection.
i'd hold out for more money.
why was this not a New York Post cover story???????
Surviving... (TOUCHE!!!)
Jason... I found that picture online, as it was at least somewhat similar to the lock on the door in the bar. It's at least 30% more evil.
Jason 2... Word to that. Them art peoples have all the sweet cash.
Stew... I know, right? It's disgusting how they ignore the REAL news out there.
NY POST HEADLINE:
THUMBLESS MAN FOUND IN TOPLESS BAR!
Hope you cleaned up your bloody mess in the bathroom afterward. Would hate for your DNA to be all over that future crime scene.
Jason... Also pantsless.
Justin... Ooooh, good point! You'd think I'd have remembered that, what with all the CSI I've watched.
What can I say, I'm a sucker for intoxicated men in need! Keep an eye on that infection, it looks nasty!
(I was a lot drunker then either of us remember if that bar was actually topless and pantless. But that's probably a good thing.)
My goodness, when I started the story, I thought that you were trapped in the bathroom for four days and had to survive drinking your own pee or something.
While I feel very sorry for your thumb, I'm a little relieved that you were able to get out and seek medical attention right away.
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