I did it Again

I’ve spoken about my clumsiness before, and I’m back at it again. Saturday I was in a hurry and I kicked the door jam in the bathroom, at first all my toes hurt I walked some of the pain off. But one toe wouldn’t stop hurting and I could walk on it without a lot of pain. I didn’t break it; I just jammed it really badly. Last night my foot turned a really pretty purple color. Now I can kind of walk on it without too much trouble, though I’m still limping.
I know this is really short, but I can't think of anything else right now.

A Suicide Turned Murder A Short Story

He’d made his decision. He’d had enough. He’s going to kill himself.
He drove down to the bridge outside of town. Parking on the side of the road just before the bridge, he began to cross the bridge on foot.
It was a warm summer night, and as he walked, his pace did not slow. He didn’t experience that last minute of doubt that people on TV shows always depict. He just did it.
Reaching the point where he knew the river was the deepest he hoisted up onto the bridge railing, and without checking to make sure no one was looking, he jumped. Just before his body met the water, he thought he heard a shout.
The fall wasn’t nearly far enough to kill him, as he knew it wouldn’t be.
Swimming down to the bottom of the river was easy thanks to his soaked clothes, although, kicking his feet was difficult with his water logged shoes.
He held his breath as he swam down. Finding the edge of a huge rock with his hands, he began to release his supply of air as he wedged his torso beneath the rock so that he wouldn’t float upward. Satisfied he was secure; he allowed the rest of his air to leave him.
He had taken his first gulp of water when he felt himself slip lose from the rock and start to float slowly upward. He let himself drift and just concentrated on letting more water into himself.
That’s when he felt the hands grab on to him and pull him swiftly up through the water. Disoriented from oxygen deprivation, he didn’t struggle….at some point he passed out.
When he awoke, someone was trying to perform CPR on him. He tried to push away as he gave way to a coughing fit.
Whoever it was started talking to him, but all the words ran together. All he could make out of his so called savior through the darkness was a vague figure, and the voice was quit deep.
He rolled over to cough up the water more easily, as he did so, he pulled away some more.
Grabbing him and pulling him back, the stranger demanded to know what he was thinking.
He didn’t reply. Instead, his hands scrambled to find something, anything to get himself out of this.
That’s when he found the root. Seizing it, he sat up suddenly and plunged it into the stranger.
The root slipped right into the stranger’s body. Collapsing across his legs, the stranger lay still and the suicide pushed him off in disgust.
Some people have all the luck.

Clumsy

I’m really clumsy. There I said it. Always have been, always will be, I think it’s safe to say everybody has clumsy “spells” but some of us are born clumsy, and we just have graceful “spells”. I wish I would have one soon, before I lose an appendage. It’s been crazy lately.

On top of the ordinary bumps and bruises that I inflicted upon myself on a regular basis, I have one freaky accident, or one bump or scrape that’s more serious than the rest, or something that could have been avoided, had I just paid more attention every two or three months. This week I’ve had each of these things:

1. The Avoidable Accident
Friday, I’m baking cookies and the timer goes off. I can’t locate an oven mitten within the first three seconds of looking, instead of looking a little longer, or asking where one was: I grab a towel, thinking: “I hope this towel’s thick enough…Nope, guess not….ouch! Cookies were saved and I had a huge blister on my right hand index finger, and a little one on my thumb.

2. The Serious Scrape
Last night I got up from my futon to go to the bathroom, and I felt my bed tilt with me. So, I lean back so that I don’t flip it over and I think it flips all the way back. When I come back from the bathroom and climb into bed I feel the futon is at a slant, but I’m sleepy, so I’m not sure. I lean over to feel if the futon leg is on the ground or in the air: sure enough, as soon as I find the leg bottom the futon shifts and lands on the floor, with my right middle and ring finger squished in between. Luckily nothing was broken, however, I did bruise my ring finger a little, and I scraped layers of skin off of my middle finger.( I had no idea the futon leg was that sharp.) So now I’m out of practicing piano for a few days, and I’m typing with only nine fingers.

3. Freaky
This morning I was playing with a pen; and the clasp for pinning it on a shirt broke off and a piece went flying straight into my eye. My eye wasn’t scratched, even though I hadn’t had time to blink to keep the foreign object from hitting my eyeball, but it sure did make it water. I walked around like a one eyed pirate for about a minute.

All in all, I hope that this was the last of my accidents, because frankly, I don’t want to know what might happen next.