My hand is all fucked up. Here’s how it happened.

I got home from work yesterday and decided to engage in a rousing game of Frisbee. Two throws later, the frisbee was behind a fence, because I’m unable to play even a sport requiring no athletic ability.

“No worries,” I thought to myself, “I’ll just scale this 9-foot fence and grab it.” I scale the fence easily, then come to the realization that I now have to get off the 9-foot fence. In my haste to ensure a safe landing, I forgot to take my hand off the top of the chain link fence. I was reminded a moment later by the feeling of the fence entering my palm in two different places. Oh, and I didn’t stick the landing. I am just the fucking worst.

I hit the deck, fall down, and look at my hand- it’s already soaked in blood. Claret (I don’t want to write “blood” twice) starts pooling in my palm and dripping off my fingers. Now that I think about it, it’s kinda fitting that I gave myself a fucking stigmata trying to hop the fence to a church parking lot. I start looking for a way out; after all, I can’t go back the way I came. I find a gap in the fence that I really wish I’d noticed sooner, and I slip through, safe and sound.

So that’s the story, in case you gave a shit.