Monday, January 18, 2010

Trombone + Nose = Blood

Alright, I have chosen to go G-rated with this first story. We are turning back the clock to the 2nd grade. I had just moved to Kansas City late that summer and was attending my 4th elementary school in 2 years. Therefore I was not terribly familiar with the layout of the school which may have played some role in what would transpire in the upcoming moments, however, I'm not so sure that this would have helped one bit.

The bell had just rung and the class was hustling to get out the door and begin their journey back home. I do not recall what caused me to run a little behind that fateful afternoon, but for some reason I was the last one to exit the classroom. As I made my way out the door to head towards the school bus I did my due diligence to check both ways before entering the hallway. At this point I felt that it was clear for me to venture onward. As I took a step forward to enter the hallway I heard to my left the thunderous footsteps of someone rapidly approaching. I quickly turned to my left and my eyes instantly filled with horror.

Ok, let's take a quick break there to set this vision up. Now, when one is at a tender, young age older children appear to be mammoths in comparison to you. For instance, when I was in 2nd grade a 6th grade student would seem like a 6'2 behemoth whenever one would come around. Relatively speaking, they were much larger than I so it felt that way, but that may have also possibly stemmed from the fact that I was always one of the smaller kids in my classes. I didn't hit a growth spurt until the end of my junior year of high school, but that's a topic for another time. Now that this setup is complete perhaps you can envision the next part of the story.

As I turned to my left I saw a giant girl (we're not necessarily speaking of girth here as opposed to her general size in comparison to me) hurdling towards me at what seemed to be mach speed. The deer staring into headlights effect must have overtaken me, because I stood there motionless watching this all unfold in slow motion. In her right hand she held a very large instrument case. My theory is that she was bustling down the hall to reach her bus on time as she was certainly in quite the hurry. As I stood there she continued to rapidly approach apparently not noticing me in her peripheral vision. Granted, I did not likely see her for that long a period of time, but it seemed an eternity because the little memory I have etched in my brain of this event is all in slow motion as if it were some kind of Sportscenter Top 10 play. As I would shortly discover, inside this instrument case there sat a trombone. At full speed she continued charging forward and proceeded to place a world of hurt on my face. The trombone connected squarely on my nose and sent me sprawling on my back to the ground. There I would lie with blood gushing out of my nose until my teacher saw me from inside the classroom. I looked like 50 Cent as I laid there crumpled in the fetal position surrounded by a pool of blood. The only thing missing were numerous bullet holes. Once the teacher arrived she assured the girl she could continue home, and the giant was on her way.

From here on my memory is a little fuzzy, but from what I can recall our classroom was out of any Kleenex or anything that I could use to plug my nose. We wandered around the hallways trying to find a classroom that would have some Kleenex so I could stuff them up my nostrils and proceed on my way home. All the while the blood continued to seep from my nose. Finally, we discovered a room that contained the materials needed to stuff the nose and I was on my way. They had notified the bus driver of the situation, so they had waited around a bit longer in order for me to catch the bus. Thus the bus was the last to leave the lot and I boarded it with my nostrils stuffed to the brim with Kleenex as each child glanced curiously to the front. Finally, the bus left the station and took us on our way home, and thus concludes the story of how I had my clock cleaned by a trombone wielding maniac.

1 comment:

  1. The Cat King demands that this blog be updated on a DAILY basis.