Poop Shute

Jimminy Christmas!

Sunday night I was in a little bit of a fender bender. Nothing serious. I'm fine and my car is even still drivable. There's a gigantic dent in the side where the moron T-boned me, but she still runs.

I had a concussion and my mom took me to the hospital to get my head and neck all checked out. While suffering from my concussion and drugged up on Vicodin and sitting in the internal waiting room where they don't let your friends and family wait with you, I wrote the following on my little pocket notebook:


"Sitting in the waiting room. I started out in what I thought was the waiting room, but it turned out that was just the room that you wait in before you get to wait in the waiting room. Here I sit, waiting to have X-rays and CAT scans. My head is blah and the gross fluorescent lights aren't helping.


They've got me in one of those hard-plastic neck collars that they put you in when they think you might have a neck injury. Did I mention that part yet? Now seems as good a time as any.


All I wanted was to get some gas. Instead I got T-boned by some idiot who wasn't paying attention to what he was doing."

All things considered, that seems pretty cogent to me. I read it later not remembering having written it. Oh well. Narcotics and head traumas will do that to you.

Don't worry about me. Seriously. Slept it off Monday, just left with a stiff neck today.