martes, junio 05, 2007

The Truck Incident

I was about 8 years old I suppose, my little brother 5 years old when the 'Truck Incident' occurred. Father Christmas had read my letter and delivered a 'Tonka' truck (a small metal replica of a dumper truck) that year and I had spent months playing with it. By summer, it had lost it's appeal for me and so, finally, my little brother was allowed to play with it. Off he went with his "Brrrrrring, beep beep beep" sounds and we were both happy.

So, one particularly fine day, I was lying on a neighbours lawn, contemplating the sky and wondering what the few clouds in the sky might represent - hmm, was that a dragon? or maybe a castle in the sky...

THWACK

"Ouch" I shouted, rather loudly and attempted to jump up and attack my assailant. Unfortunately, the blow to my head had been rather harder than I realised and upon standing I immediately sat back down like a pissed giraffe. Meanwhile, my little brother, the propulsion behind the metallic toy, had seen the blood, was ready to get his arse kicked but now, seeing blood and his older brother falling around, panicked. He ran home screaming as I attempted to follow in a wobbly fashion.

He got there first and ran in through the door screaming "Mum, Mum, S has been hit by a truck !!". This obviously caused our mother some alarm and she started to panic.

As he had run to the back door, I had staggerred to the front door. Finding no answer but leaving a none too healthy pool of blood on the doorstep I figured that I had to go around to the back.

Thus began the Tango of Confusion. I wobbled around to the back, my mother came through to the front having been informed that her son had been hit by a truck, and almost had a heart attack on seeing the pool of blood on the doorstep. I meanwhile had deposited another puddle of blood on the back doorstep and had set off bravely (holding onto the wall) back to the front. She ran back into the house and called the police, ambulance and probably goth rescue brigades.

Soon enough, I was on my way to hospital, stiched, fixed and wrapped in a loving mothers arms.

Moral of the story? - there is none...it just happened.

11 comentarios:

Mr Farty dijo...

Four-year-old niece F came running to mama one day yelling "Gary's knocked over!"
Mama raced out looking for the car, to see Gary playing happily; turned to F and asked, "What did you say?"
"My birthday's in June, and Gary's in Octover!"
Kids, eh?

Mr. X dijo...

Ouch!

Tippler dijo...

Well and truly trucked.

It explains a great deal...

Brom dijo...

Just choked on my samdwich!

Now I can't see the keeboard for tears!

Great story!

kimmyk dijo...

Ya know, that blow to the noggin' explains some of the mysteries surrounding you my friend. LOL! Just kidding!!

Peach dijo...

yeah I'm with kimmyk - explains a lot..

;-)

SpanishGoth dijo...

Mr Farty -> bloody winter months..

Mr X -> it did hurt a little

Tippler -> just my trucking luck

Brom -> choked? you can barely spell :p

Kimmy -> probably but thanks for 'friend'

Peach -> yikes, is this a lesbian thing?

Scouse Doris dijo...

Great story. Those Tonka's were dangerous - if they weren't hitting YOU in the head they were gouging out great big holes in the skirting board.

Elaine dijo...

And your mother didn't sue Tonka?

The Aunt dijo...

Lucky your mother was there. Mine was in Africa and didn't even hear about it until after the cast was off.

SpanishGoth dijo...

Scouse -> Tonkas were shit, as was Action Man.. the little freak

Elaine -> she tried sewing but

Aunty M -> I'll be there for you