Them Bones

I've broken 3 bones in my life. They were all hairline fractures, so nothing too serious or life-threatening. Just a couple of months in a cast and I was right as rain. Well, here's the story of the first bone break.

The year was 1989. I was a boy genius of 5. One exhilarating night, I had just finished concocting a master plan in the basement. It was simple in its beauty so the execution would be a cinch. All I had to do is climb onto the small table (maybe 16 inches tall) and jump for the string of the balloon that was resting on the ceiling. Afterwords, I would float. The world would then fear me.

I climbed onto the table and readied myself. I visualized the jump and grab. I was ready.

I leapt. Soaring through the air I swiped at the string. Catching nothing but air, I didn't quite have time to be confused for my plan's failure. No, instead, I fell elbow-first to the hard ground.

The pain was ... well, I'm not sure really; that was almost 20 years ago. In high school I developed a profanity-based chart to quantify pain. I hadn't learned profanity when I was 5 but had I been older, this would have been off the chart on some fabled level of pain reserved for vegetarians. That night I felt God speaking to me in a unique and profound way. The heavens opened and from God's almighty hand came a searing maelstrom of anger and hatred. This malevolence was channeled directly into my funny bone to atone for my past and future sins. The numbness in my fingers was terrifying as I cried for help and supplicated God to put an end to all suffering on earth (scientists and leading theologians later proved that all suffering on earth had been redirected into my elbow that night).

To have it to do over again, there's one I'd really like to have back.