We Going To Hell 4

Every year or so someone pops up in the news looking like a damned lunatic because they have something that has the image of Jesus on it. I think it was a coupe of years ago someone had bird shit on their window and said that it looked like Jesus. This time its Paula Osuna from Silver City, New Mexico and she didn't see Jesus in her cheese toast or on a window like some of you blasphemers. Oh, no. Jesus made a guest appearance on her toe!

You'd think she'd paint her nails and pluck them hairs.

Paula hurt her foot when she fell down some stairs because gravity. She jacked up her foot and asked her fiance to rub some holy dirt she had saved from a trip to a Catholic shrine in Chimayo on her foot. Dude, you aren't married to this woman yet. Like the great poet Al Bundy once said “Run. Run hard, run now, run silent, run deep, run like Mexican water through a first time tourist.” You still have a chance to escape this level of crazy! That is unless he is cool with this.

Broken Finger & Toe

One day in the 10th grade I broke my pinky finger on my right hand. The way it happened wasn’t that bad and I didn’t realize how bad it was until later that day. I played volleyball in high school and was good at it much to my surprise. I’m not the most athletic guy on Erf. I read, write, and draw. I also claim to be a very busy lazy man.

Okay, so during volleyball (I had it as my first period class) we were playing and the ball hit the tip of my pinky head on. My nail hurt more than anything. I was like, “Ow…” but kept playing.

Afterwards I got dressed and went to my next class, Advanced Physical Science. I was sitting there staring at my finger and thinking it was odd that I would make a fist but my pinky wanted to stay still. I tugged at it and it popped. Not like a knuckle popping pop, but a small gunshot pop. My teacher and this chick sitting next to me stared at me.

“You wanna go to the nurse?” my teacher, Mr. Canny, asked me.

“I think so…” I said.

So I go down there and the nurse could care less. She’s tugging, pulling, and bending my finger. The whole time I’m saying “Ow!” until she finally sighs and gives me a napkin with some ice in it. During class my finger starts to feel worse and eventually I give Laverne a call.

“I ain’t leavin’ work for that shit!” she screams at me in her most motherly voice. “Call Luther.”

I called my brother Luther but he couldn’t come. I stayed at school the rest of the day and when Laverne came home she reluctantly took me to Kaiser. They gave me an x-ray and saw that my finger was broken in two places and that the snap I heard (and felt!) was me putting it back in as it was dislocated. They gave me a spiffy metal brace and some clear tape. I had that on during my entire summer school session. Nothing like writing like you’re drinking a cup of tea.

When I took it off my finger was pale white and smelled like ass. Not fun.

Before the 10t grade but after the 9th (I guess I could’ve just said the summer before 10th grade started) I broke my big tow on my right foot chasing my little sister. I don’t remember what she threw at me but I started chasing her and didn’t raise my foot in time and hit the step leading out of the den and into the laundry room.

“Wait for it…” I said as I stood bracing myself for the pain. It hurt like a son of a bitch! I limped for a couple of months. I didn’t go to the doctor for it. Funny how my parents took me to the doctor for a broken finger but not when I get hit by a car damaging my knee for life. What made it worse was that I was in my steel toe boot phase and wore them the entire time. It was stupid. I haven’t broken anything since. Knock on wood. Just don’t use your toe.

Rockets.