The curtain raised.
Shaolin Soccer made its debut on the BkE silverscreen to the response of howling laughter. In imitation of Kung Fu master Iron Leg, Bret flew down from the top of the sofa in a flying kick. With hands raise, poised for a fight, he looked each of us in the eye. We were not laughing any more.
We waited.
He made the first move, back-tracking the way he came. In a single bound he reached the sofa's zenith and in another moment WHACK! he was on the floor. The laughter resumed.
We laugh because we love. Bret usually has comical misfortunes. He often rushes into the house exclaiming, "Thad, I fell off my bike again today!"
He hit his head pretty hard on the load-bearing beam (which has recently been dubbed "Coach's Beam") in the ceiling downstairs, and we got him up and made sure he was all right. It wasn't until minutes later that he noticed the blood.
The debate ensued: was this injury bad enough to warrant a (potentially expensive) trip to the ER? Could it wait until morning? Were his pupils always different sizes?
Did we want to go hang out in a public waiting room late into the night?
Yes we did.
Bret's bloody, stupid head.
The damage done.
Jared was worried sick. And we played Trivial Pursuit!
Coach lightens the ER waiting room atmosphere with his witty Michael Jackson impersonation.
Six staples. Count them. I dare you.
1 comment:
There were five staples. And the best part was that my first words upon hitting my head were, "Not again!"
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