So to follow up the last chapter, I decided I should tell you all the story of how I almost had child protective services called for something that wasn't actually my parents fault. (Important unrelated update at the end)
We know I hate my left leg now, but where might that have started? In the seventh grade possibly... It was the middle ofFebruary or so and we had recently had a nice snow storm. North east of the USA (*Eagle sounds in the distance*) so we are pretty used to that kind of thing. There was probably about six inches on the ground but maybe a little less as it melted some.
I was sitting in my room just chilling on my bed. Guinea pigs were hanging out in their respective hides (Flicker liked the blue one and wouldn't let Whiskey in. She got stuck with the purple or green one) when I casually looked out the window. Hanging off the roof was this medium sized melting icicle that looked like heaven to my dehydrated self. Opening my window, I found my little 13 year old arms were too short to reach my prize.
Being the genius child I am I had another plan: Smack and grab. All I needed was a book and some hand eye coordination. I was lacking in the second which could be shown by the icicle now laying in the snow on the roof a few feet below my window. "This is okay." I told myself. "We will just go out and get it."
And so the 13 year old stuck a bare foot out the window before thinking "Wait, I should put on some nice (thin) socks to match my nice (thin) pajamas. Perfect for facing even the harshest winter (not)." Now fully prepared, my seventh grade me slipping one half out at a time before the whole reached the slanted garage roof. I sat down in about the center and grasped the treasure with my bare hands.
Everything went wrong. The snow gave out from under me and I began to slide with it towards the edge of the roof. I remember thinking vaguely "I should probably do something". I did not do something. I slid off the roof and tested gravity for a whole seven to eight feet before colliding with the patio deck. Oddly enough I landed on my feet in a pose similar to Spiderman (aka on my feet) before tipping over and collapsing into the snow. It was only then that I realized the beloved icicle had escaped my grasp somewhere still upon the roof.
My poor mother was standing at the sink prepping for dinner when she saw this large shape fly past the kitchen window and land on her deck. I'm pretty sure she questioned what all she had eaten that day, because what parent expects to see there child plummet off a roof with no warning?!
I was taken to the hospital for X-Rays. The nurses and doctors couldn't seem to believe I'd actually managed to fall of the roof or even gotten on said roof. The truth was too absurd for them to think. A seventh grader could be that fucking dumb? One straight up asked if I was telling the truth or if I needed help. Nope, I was actually that dumb. Couldn't lie about that. I fell off the roof and sprained my foot.
Results took five hours, but eventually the nurse gave me crutches and practically chased me out the door. I had no real clue how to use the damn things and two days later...
There was a test flight. My mother and father told me "Now Error, don't come down the stairs on the crutches! It won't be good." 'Hah!' Seventh grade me thought. What do they know! They've only had experience with such matters! I know better!
To be fair my logic wasn't too far off. There are two stairs that I was allowed to go up and down on the front porch, so I was certain that would apply to a full set of stairs. Not such a bad idea in theory.
It was a bad idea, and halfway down the stairs I leaned a little too far forwards. For maybe three seconds I flew before landing full force on my left knee. Apparently I cursed according to my father-who witnessed me crash at the bottom of the stairs from his office (he had been casually playing guitar when the thirteen year old stage dives a few feet away from him). For several seconds he stared at me before calling for my mother, who came over very slowly in my opinion.
"Whaddid we tell ya." Was her reaction. She huffed slightly and stared down at the idiot seventh grader. That same seventh grader was very annoyed that she was not helping.
Error did not get taken to the hospital that time for fear child services wouldn't believe the seventh grader could actually be that dumb. To clarify: The Seventh Grader was that dumb.
EXTRA:
Doctor said I fractured my knee cap and three weeks later said to go to physical therapy. Seventh Grade me did not like physical therapy. Seventh Grade me somehow convinced the physical therapist I had no pain and full range of movement. Seventh Grade me was very dumb in that choice and Eighth grade me paid for it. Funny dinner story though.
(Unrelated Update next)
The flies followed me here. There was one in my new room that believed it could get away with being on my ceiling. I threw my summer reading at it and killed it with one shot. My Aunt now owes me two cents.
