Our own Frank Babies has a unique style to his writing, and we love it. We hope you do as well. Check out the second part of his multi-part series below as he describes "how to lose a toe in 10 days."
In movies bloodshed is heroic. The action star says something like "you drive" and drags himself into the passenger's side looking all gassy and holding his stomach, but the busty scientist/astronaut/up-until-now kidnappee' pulls his hands away revealing a gaping bloody hole. "Just drive," he says, "we've got to get you back to the aquarium before they get a hold of the pool skimmers."
That's pretty much what happened to me. Dolphins intact, marauders brought to justice Shamu style. On a side note, did you know that SeaWorld keeps like five Shamus on call* at any moment? Occasionally a few of them engage in a tussle for dominance known in the scientific community as a "Shamboozle". If Bro Council's formatting allowed for footnotes I'd totally cite all the scholarly journals that I'm drawing upon for all this knowledge that I'm passing onto you. Really, I feel as if knowledge is marrow, I'm a syringe, and you, fair readers, are the orderlies who have to pick up all the shattered pieces of me after I drop me on the floor (which is also me for some reason). And since you are chronically absent-minded, you forget your gloves and are infected with the disease of enlightenment. You're welcome.
Anyway, I was standing on the sidewalk next to a lawn mower. And I was bleeding.
I did what any reasonable adult would do; I yelled for my father. "Dad!" I yelled. This received no response, so I changed my strategy. "Daad!" I wailed. The guy across the street went on along whacking his weeds, all cocky. Suddenly he didn't seem like such a noob. One of us was operating his piece of lawn tending equipment in the manner intended. And the other was doubled over next to it, screaming. Here's the thing - my family runs all the appliances all in the house at full volume, all the time. If said appliance doesn't have a volume feature, someone breaks it until it makes a noise. So I limped up two flights of steps while considering collapsing and bashing up my skull to make the scene more tragic and less, y'know, Rob Schneider in an Adam Sandler movie. Upon entering the house my father greeted me, took note of the situation, and then started yelling at me. Then he helped me take my shoe off and gave me a napkin. This was shortly before father's day and it is surely a moment that we will remember fondly for years to come. Napkin and Stump. Father and Son.
My mother appeared and offered a sheet, which while not ideal, was preferable to the napkin. She kept telling me to sit down, but I refused. I had this persistent notion that if I sat, never again would I rise. I'd die right there on the couch. Or someone would have to fish me out with a crane like a morbidly obese man on the Maury show. This logic totally follows - if one suffers a traumatic foot injury keep him standing for as long as possible. In fact, consider having him try to moonwalk. Levity is always crucial in recovery, and life. Levity and Dance; that's our family crest. Oh, and I did ask for a glass of cool water. I'm not an idiot.
So, we loaded up the ol' family SUV like we heading out for a guys' day at the lake - me, my dad, my bloody sheet, my glass of water, and my sock ,which I held onto thinking it may contain a portion of one or more my toes, but was saving as a surprise. I've never had a guys' day at the lake, but I presume it involves all these things and maybe one of those weird hats with fishing tackle attached and probably some talk of investing wisely and marrying a girl within the same religion. My dad did offer some words of encouragement along the lines of "It's probably not that bad" or, alternatively, "how bad do you think it is?" before patting me on the back as I wheezed convulsively into my rapidly crimsoning bed sheet.
People complain about healthcare and understaffed ER rooms. And those people are angry people. And they have the internet and Facebook, and on their Facebook pages they have pictures of politicians making mean faces and have lots of quotes from nobody in particular going on about "taking our rights", and they have that stupid Guy Fawkes mask from V for Vendetta as their profile picture, because they have bad skin from wearing stupid masks all the time. If you want swift admittance to an Emergency Room here's a lifehack (Yeah, I said that. I talk like that all the time - lifehack, tablet, interface, connectivity, meta, workspace, iOS, firmware upgrade, meme, meme meme - come at me bro!). Your tip is this; get wheeled in by a guy who looks like a pissed off in-shape Santa Claus clutching a child's bed sheet drenched in blood. Do that, or don't complain.
America.
*Note "Five Shamus on Call" is my intellectual property and if I choose to license it to one of those terrible Irish Punk-Folk Revival bands, don't let me.
Check out part one here.
