Shell Shock!
Have you ever seen a broken ankle? No, I don’t mean fractured, I mean broken. As in the bit at the bottom with the toes is only connected to the long bit by the skin and the muscles and stuff? Well, I did this weekend. And it is pretty ugly.
Also on the gore-fest menu was a broken nose and an eye that was threatening to pop out of its socket. I saw the eye yesterday, all swollen shut but the interesting (in a macabre sort of way) part was the amazingly beautiful colours that this swollen eye had achieved – purples, pinks, blacks, incredible. However, what was a bit (just a little bit) gross was the fact that there was blood dripping out through the slit where the eyelids meet.
And Flyboy seems to be suffering from concussion and those ribs are really sore – does it have to bruise to be cracked?
So, before anyone whoever reads this decides to delete all traces of The Katt Box from their PC because I “hang out on the wrong side of the tracks,” let me relate Saturday’s events.
Flyboy and I joined two friends at a local watering hole where we have had liquid refreshments in a nice, jovial environment on previous occasions. When we arrived there with the intention of watching the rugby we saw a nice red 4 x 4 and a 8 metre long rubber duck parked outside our local establishment. Of course, there were 10 to 12 of these creatures inside our local establishment.
After the rugby we were finishing 'the one for the road' when one of these creatures came over and burbled something in what I can only assume to have been an attempt at Afrikaans. I got the impression that normal speech is difficult for these creatures at the best of times but, the alcohol had obviously numbed the speech centre of the brain to such an extent that he was talking Klingon. I asked him to please repeat that again in English: "I are an abalone (big word) diver, do you think I am damaging your coast?" To which I replied yes, I think you are and got up, paid the bill and started collecting our belongings and the dog and went downstairs.
When I came up again the men were still sitting there talking to this creature - what is it with you idiots? Can't you smell trouble when it comes with athletes foot and smells of salmonella seafood? In a nutshell, I returned downstairs and waited, heard the first punches and phoned the cops. Apparently as one of my friends came out of the bathroom and was walking to the door, the head creatures sucker punched him from the side and well, we all know what sharks are like when they smell blood. 10 or 12 against three - nice odds.
So, what is the moral of the story? There isn't any, just that these creatures are ruining the lives of ordinary people. I could carry on and write volumes but what is the point? These people are sub-human and now we sit with the aches, pains and medical bills.
Also on the gore-fest menu was a broken nose and an eye that was threatening to pop out of its socket. I saw the eye yesterday, all swollen shut but the interesting (in a macabre sort of way) part was the amazingly beautiful colours that this swollen eye had achieved – purples, pinks, blacks, incredible. However, what was a bit (just a little bit) gross was the fact that there was blood dripping out through the slit where the eyelids meet.
And Flyboy seems to be suffering from concussion and those ribs are really sore – does it have to bruise to be cracked?
So, before anyone whoever reads this decides to delete all traces of The Katt Box from their PC because I “hang out on the wrong side of the tracks,” let me relate Saturday’s events.
Flyboy and I joined two friends at a local watering hole where we have had liquid refreshments in a nice, jovial environment on previous occasions. When we arrived there with the intention of watching the rugby we saw a nice red 4 x 4 and a 8 metre long rubber duck parked outside our local establishment. Of course, there were 10 to 12 of these creatures inside our local establishment.
After the rugby we were finishing 'the one for the road' when one of these creatures came over and burbled something in what I can only assume to have been an attempt at Afrikaans. I got the impression that normal speech is difficult for these creatures at the best of times but, the alcohol had obviously numbed the speech centre of the brain to such an extent that he was talking Klingon. I asked him to please repeat that again in English: "I are an abalone (big word) diver, do you think I am damaging your coast?" To which I replied yes, I think you are and got up, paid the bill and started collecting our belongings and the dog and went downstairs.
When I came up again the men were still sitting there talking to this creature - what is it with you idiots? Can't you smell trouble when it comes with athletes foot and smells of salmonella seafood? In a nutshell, I returned downstairs and waited, heard the first punches and phoned the cops. Apparently as one of my friends came out of the bathroom and was walking to the door, the head creatures sucker punched him from the side and well, we all know what sharks are like when they smell blood. 10 or 12 against three - nice odds.
So, what is the moral of the story? There isn't any, just that these creatures are ruining the lives of ordinary people. I could carry on and write volumes but what is the point? These people are sub-human and now we sit with the aches, pains and medical bills.
posted by Katt at 9:02 am
1 Comments:
You OK ?? this doesn't sound too good..
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