The Sprinkler From Hell

There have been many tales where it seems like my family have done things to me that would’ve required social services to be called. Well, here is another one! I have been hurt and jacked up in ways that you would imagine I should look like a mutant sewer dweller. This is about one of the worst injuries I ever had.

"What happened to your foot?"

That's what my brother Luther asked me before what would be one of the dumbest days of my life. It wasn't dumb in the fact that the sky was green and trees spoke with Scottish accents (because we all know they have Australian accents). Just one stupid event followed another which lead with me not being able to move my baby toe.

When I was little we had a huge backyard on 89th street. One afternoon we were all bouncing around like lunatics having fun. We were all having fun until my brother Luther asked "What happened to your foot?" I looked down and there was a crime scene!

I started screaming like a little bitch. For those of you that haven't heard me (many any of you) I can scream like a schoolgirl with spiders in her hair. See, if I hadn't seen it I wouldn't have felt it. That's how things go. But there was no turning back. I saw blood pouring out my foot and freaked the fuck out.

Limping to the house dripping blood all in the driveway and leaving a bloody footprint every few steps I screamed for my mother. What happened next may not be suitable for younger viewers.

"Stick your foot in that goddamned tub!"

Being Miss Sensitivity as she always is she offered no kind of support or care. She went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of peroxide. Sploosh! A bottle of alcohol. Sploosh! I bet folks thought I was being murdered in that damned bathroom. Not only was I freaking out because I didn't know how I got hurt, but now my foot was on fire. She threw a towel at me and I wrapped my foot.

The cut was from an "H" shaped sprinkler in the backyard. I just happened to step on it a certain way and it sliced right through my foot. The spot is right in between my baby toe and whatever that other toe (index toe?) is called. It was a long slice, too.

I still have the scar to this day and can't wiggle that damned toe for nothing. That doesn't mean I can't feel anything. If you step on it I will hit you. But I can't move it right. Sideways I can like I'm gonna high five you with my foot.

The healing process was worse. It looked so damned gross when it was getting better. I separated it one day and damned near fainted I grossed myself out so much.

The moral of this story kids is…there isn't one. I can't tell you to not play around sprinklers. Those damned things are fun. Just be careful and don't splash peroxide and alcohol on kids feet.