So There I Was...

The following is a true story of one family's struggle to survive an average Sunday.

It was a Sunday morning like any other. The sun was shining, the windows were open, Dad was watching Football and Baby was happily napping in her little crib. Mom was in the kitchen, cutting an English Muffin and thinking, "I really ought to get out the cutting board, rather than holding this muffin in my hand, but hey...what could possibly go wrong?" That was when the unthinkable happened. Mom dragged that serrated knife not only through the English Muffin, but through her left hand and, spouting blood, she called to Dad, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" Dad came in, saw the wound and immediately said, "This reminds me of the time I cut my hand while slicing limes. Do you remember? ..." and launched into a story about his own past knife-related trauma, which Mom found somewhat inconsiderate. It really wasn't nice of him to steal her wounded thunder. Anyhow...Dad helped Mom wrap her hand and then, because Baby was still sleeping soundly, unaware of her Mom's impending death, strong, brave Mom walked herself out of the apartment, down the stairs and over to the hospital. Mom checked in and was told to take her bloody hand over into the waiting room, it would likely be a short multi-hour wait, per ER standard practice. And so, Mom headed for the waiting area when a horrific sound stopped her short. The sound...how to describe it...like the Jabberwocky coming out of the wood, it was a rattle and a rasp and a growl and a wheeze...it was the sound of death...it was the sound...of a roomful of people with undiagnosed, sure to be contagious, diseases. And so, Mom held back, terrified and then, after scanning the room for an escape route, finally settled on slinking over to a far corner of the room, behind a rack of vending machines to hide until her name was called. Of course, Mom's escape was quickly detected by the roomful of evil contagions who sent out one of their tiny minions, a 3 year old with what sounded like a powerful case of Whooping Cough, to come lurk by the vending machines, PRETENDING to covet the candy inside, while really just trying to propel his disease in Mom's direction. But we must move on...

Back home, Baby finally woke and Dad went to get her. On his way back into the living room, Dad was attacked by a leather chair which took his little toe, bent it backward, smacked it forward and beat it until it was purple, blue, and deformed. In attempting to get away from his attacker, Dad put Baby on the ground. In front of her was a seemingly innocuous Sippy Cup, but as we have learned, Dear Reader, on this day, normal household items were not to be trusted, and as Dad leapt around shouting and fending off the chair, Baby's sippy cup leapt up, grabbed her by the mouth and headbutted her! It shoved its hard little tip into her gum, saying "Think you can suck water from me all day every day and never get any in return, eh???" And Baby, like Mom and Dad before her, was brought to tears by her enemy.

Meanwhile, Mom had finally made it into the ER only to be told that glue would solve her hand problem, "no worries". Needless to say, said glue dissolved by that evening and Mom's hand was once again a gaping wound. Back to the ER Monday, Mom again had a 3 hour wait, cowering in the corner away from the Sickies. Once the Doctor finally came to get her, the only room that was open was a psych room. After confirming that Doctor knew Mom had not purposely cut herself and that she was not about to be strapped to the crazy table, Mom agreed to take the space. Just as Doctor was finishing taping Mom's hand (PS The tape dissolved within 12 hours and Mom's hand is now, AGAIN, open. ARGH!), chaos in the hallway and into the second psych room came a woman. She was being carried by two police officers and two hospital attendees and as they strapped her to the table, kicking and screaming, they demanded to know her name. (Mom could see all this because her door was open, her not being crazy and all. At least not in a certifiable way.)

Officer 1: M'am, What's your name?
Woman: Bastard McGee - AAAHHHHHEEEEEHHHHHAAHHHHHHHH
Officer 2: Mmhmm, what's your first name?
Woman: Bastard - RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR
Officer 1: Where you from, Ms. McGee?
Woman: .......... BASTARDVILLE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

At this point, Doctor came back in and offered to let Mom get out of there. Thank you, Doc. Although, it was the most entertainment Mom had enjoyed during her three hour visit to the ER.

The end of the story...All family members survived. Dad's toe looks like a miniature eggplant, the cut on Mom's hand looks like some kind of horror movie monster's maw, Baby shows no signs of trauma, although she does twitch a little when the Sippy Cup comes near...The moral of the story...never take for granted the essence of things. Just when you think you have something all figured out, it might go and change its nature, turning from a helpful household implement into a vicious, bloodthirsty master of destruction.

The End