Categories: Humor, Misc

We all have those days. You know what I'm talking about. Those days where you feel like you must have eaten a retard sandwich for breakfast. Today was one of those days for me.

So I'm in a discussion with a co-worker. Whatever we're talking about, it's stupid. Somehow the discussion changes into what I can and cannot do. He says I can't do a vertical leap onto his desk. Of course I can. It's only a few feet off the ground. "Back up," I say.

I look around, test the wind direction, and prepare to jump. Another co-worker sits to the right, completely unaware as to what's about to happen. Let's see if old Jackington still has it in him. I bend my knees and jump! For less than a second, I'm flying like a bird. I easily clear the top of the table and land. I made it! I am king! Oh crap! I'm losing my balance! My left foot slips and my pulls my entire body down with it. As I fall, I suddenly remember why it's not a good idea to engage in such activity.

My left leg strikes the edge of the table and pushes me backward. Out of the corner of my eye I see the look of shock and awe on my previously unaware co-worker. Despite my predicament, I'm amused. My legs hit the ground first, but my torso continues to fall backward. I use my hands to break the fall, but not without my ass smashing into the floor first. Once I've stopped falling and regain control of myself, I stand up. "Well, I almost made it."

"Are you okay?" asks the co-worker who insisted I could not do what I tried to do.

"Yeah. I'm fine." At that exact moment, I feel something running down my leg. I know what it is, but I say nothing. I walk away and sit down.

I look around. Good, nobody's looking. I pull up my pant leg and discover, in order:

bloody sock, check
stream of blood running down to bloody sock, check
wound, check - wait. What's this?

I examine the wound more closely. It's not the scrape I expected. It's something completely different. I grab a paper towel and wipe off some of the blood. Certainly I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing. I start to feel queasy. That is something that just doesn't happen to me. I look away.

This just can't be. How is this type of wound even possible? How is it that my leg has a puncture wound? There is a freaking hole in my leg. It isn't large, but it's deep. Around the hole skin is folded back on itself. I think I can see bone. I'm getting nauseous again just thinking about it.

I pull my pant leg back down and walk to the restroom. I hike my leg up onto the counter and clean the wound with some warm water. I get it to stop bleeding for a few moments. I grab some paper towels and return to my desk. I fold the paper towels into a small square and hold it on the wound. I then wrap Scotch tape around the paper towels to hold them on.

Minutes later, the pain is starting to set in. I do my best to hide my limp. Nobody can know what I did. I try to work as usual, but I start to feel light-headed. Great. I return to the restroom and have another look at the wound. The paper towel has soaked through. I'm going to bleed to death. I peel up the tape and apply another paper towel. Then I sit on the toilet for a while until I feel as though I can walk without passing out.

When I stand back up, I've discovered that my legs have gone numb. Not complete numbness. It's the kind where it feels like thousands of tiny needles are stabbing you over and over again. I walk it off. After a short time, my legs feel normal again. I'm not even limping.

I make it through the rest of the work day without problem. Nobody knows about my leg. Everything's cool.

Once I get home, I head into the bathroom and wash out the wound in the shower. The soap doesn't bother me, but that water sure does sting. I examine the wound and it's still a hole. I don't know what I should do about that. I really don't want to go to the doctor. I cover the wound with gauze and hope for the best.

So now here I am, typing out my story. There is a chance I will bleed to death during the night or I could die from an infection. I'd say my chances are fifty-fifty. If I don't post tomorrow, assume the worst and leave me a touching eulogy in the comments. I'll read it in the afterlife.

Gotta go, I'm feeling light-headed again.