My Wound And The Destruction It Could Have Caused

Priestess—Hello Master


I'm wounded.

I hit my forefinger with a hammer today as I was putting together a
bookshelf and have a nice, huge blood blister.

So what should I do? Should I pop it or should I let it fester or
whatever it does? What if I'm at church, accept the body of that guy
and, as I accept the wafer in my palm, it bursts and sprays blood all
over the priest's robes?

That would be interesting because you know some lonely old lady would
start freaking out, thinking its Armageddon and just go totally
ballistic on the other church-goers.

Luckily for those lonely old ladies, I don't go churching so don't worry
about me spraying a priest with my blood. Sure, I'm going to hell as it
is, I just don't want a bunch of people wishing it on me. Even though it
obviously wouldn't make a difference.

So we'll forget about the church scenario and wonder what would happen
if I was at a buffet.

I'd be checking out the food layout, deciding what I could pack into my
tummy. Then, when I've made my decision, I'd start spooning some grub
onto my plate and my wound would burst, spraying the salad with blood
and miniscule bits of skin.

Some lonely old lady would notice and then start vomiting all over the
rest of the food so they'll have to close down the place and call in
HazMat so they could give it a good sterilization. The restaurant would
reopen eventually, but business would never be the same, all because of
that lonely old lady.

Or, I could be grocery shopping and as I'm scanning my products in the
do-it-yourself lane, the blister would erupt, splattering the computer
screen with blood and goo. The lonely old lady waiting in line would see
this and drop the Value Pack of disposable adult diapers and faint.
She'd then get run over by a runaway cart navigated by a drunk and her
frail body would explode, splattering more blood and goo on the computer
screen, gum, candy and magazines. The drunkard would laugh since they
wouldn't know better, an announcement would be made for a cleanup at
register four, the stockboy would come out with a mop and bucket and
clean up the mess and everything would be good. Until HazMat is called
and the place burned to the ground because of the abundance of fecal
matter that squirted from the old lady.

All this destruction caused by my silly wound. I don't want to cause
this sort of pain so I won't leave the house. But I don't want this
blister to grow and grow, so what am I to do?

What I'm to do is dip my finger in a can of tuna fish and let the cat
get at it. He'll gnaw gently at my finger, eventually breaking the
blister open and then he'll have a tasty treat of tuna mixed with a
blood sauce.

Issue resolved!

COMING NEXT: Why was I playing with a hammer anyway?

Stephen Johnson

The idea of building a website with Bob came from Stephen in the days of message boards and chat rooms. We settled on the name and the rest is history. Retired since he hit the ripe age of 25, he spends most his time doing odd-jobs around the house and digging thru trash bins for "stuff that's still good." Stephen has contributed several short stories and hosted the "Lunatic Ravings" column since the beginning (1999). The idea of writing weekly columns came from Stephen before blogs or blog sites ever existed. So, I guess that makes him THE FIRST BLOGGER IN THE WORLD!!!

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