Glad to be here

Hello Friends! It’s so good to be with you. Okay, I guess I’m not really with you. In point of fact, I could be sleeping right now, and you wouldn’t know it. You’re likely reading my words and feeling as though I were right next to you. Sadly though, I’m not. It’s not that I don’t want to be. It that I can’t move. I’m stuck right where I am. Perhaps I should explain.

Shortly after I completed and posted my last masterpiece of whit, I came upon hard times. Actually, I came upon a hard rock. As I was taking a walk I slipped and smashed my knee into it. I dislocated my patella. Now I always thought a patella was a cigar. This week I learned a panatella is a cigar. A patella is a bone which causes you great pain when you dislocate it. Trust me on this. I learned this lesson extremely well. I could pass med-school exams on the subject.

Glad to be alive

Now, before you all start crying and wailing, “Poor Mr. Ohh!” Don’t! I was laughing then and I’m laughing now. If you had been there when it happened, you’d be laughing at me too. I do admit, my reasons for mirth have changed since then. Now, I’m laughing mostly because the drugs are great. So, please don’t weep for me. At least wait until my prescriptions run out.

I don’t usually talk about what happens to me. In fact, up until a few days ago, I was planning not to tell you about this. However, circumstances have changed and you needed to know. Why? I’m getting to that. Don’t rush me. I’m in a very mellow, and extremely painless, mood.

Glad to tell you about it

The reason you all need to know this is: If I told you the next story without telling you that one, most people will ignore my real point, and repeatedly question whether I’m all right. Yes, I’m all right. I’m the same idiot I was before all this happened. Truly, it’s my idiocy that brings us right back to the story at hand.

One thing you all must know is that when one destroys their knee, as I’ve done, you shouldn’t put any weight on that leg at all. Consequently, when I returned home, I was sentenced to life imprisonment on my lounger. I had to eat, sleep and everything else one that one chair. Boring! A guy like me craves excitement. I need to move. I really need to go to the bathroom like normal people. You can’t do that from a single chair. Well maybe you could if you spent every moment on the… Never mind!

Glad about my solitude

Either way, the other day I wanted some cookies and everyone had left me. Oh sure, I had the TV remote, my computer, a collection of DVDs, cold beer, and three vicious animals, who wanted to draw blood, to keep me company, but I wanted cookies.

I honestly don’t know why I did what happened next. I would blame it on the drugs or beer. Sadly, I know better. A hungry man has got to do what he’s got to do. Like a caveman, he must go forth and hunt for sustenance with spears and arrows. Or, as in my case, crutches and cars. Pain does not exist for this man. Frankly, it didn’t exist at all, but we don’t need to bring that up again. This primitive beast looks to the heavens and thanks the gods that he injured his left foot and could still drive. In female terms, I was being stupid.

Glad to be a man

My animal desire for cookies, drove me out of my mind. I hobbled to the closet. Finding my sons old crutches. (They wouldn’t give me any) After a moment I was able to move about without putting any weight on my leg. So, I tottered to the car and drove to the market.

As I was parking, I had a sudden surge of common sense. I wondered how I was going to maneuver around the store in my condition. Then I remembered those scooters the market provides for disabled folks. Well, I thought, I was disabled. This time physically, and not just mentally. I limped my way in, snagged a scooter, and was on my way.

I immediately went and got those cookies, then started for the checkout. I was going to make it. I would get home without anyone finding out, or injuring myself further. I was doing great. Never tell that a man.

Glad to be side tracked

You see, once I realized I was doing fine, my deranged brain figured I could do anything. I decided I wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s only a few more items and I was already there. So, what was the problem? Well, I’ll tell you.

Bread and peanut-butter were on shelves low enough for me to reach from the scooter. The jelly, on the other hand was not. Oh sure, I could have gotten an inferior brand, but I was celebrating my independence. This requires top-shelf stuff.

I managed to barely touch the desired jar by pushing myself up on my right leg, and holding the scooter’s handle. Sadly, as I did, my hand slid over the controls and the scooter lurched forward. This caused my other hand to make a sudden jerk knocking three jars off the shelf.

Glad for my choices

This incident could actually be called good and bad. It was good because I could now reach the elusive jar of jelly. It was on the floor. The bad part was, those other jars broke, and splashed jelly over the place. What a sticky mess!!

My first instinct was to deny everything. Even though there were jelly splatters all over my feet, legs, and the bottom of the cart. I felt at least, I could get away with plausible deniability, saying I never saw the mess and drove through it. How the mess happened I really couldn’t say.

Glad for the truth

Eventually I realized I had to take the blame. I waited a few minutes for someone to come along. Nobody came. Of course, no good can come from telling the truth, and the situation went from dismay to disaster. I tried to move the scooter so as to find someone. As I did the left rear wheel skidded in the jelly spraying it all over the place. Even worse, was that right wheel grabbed hold and sent the scooter across the aisle, smashing me into a cereal display causing several boxes to topple.

After all this noise, someone did show up. Her initial words were, “Whet the Hell happened?” Afterward she calmed down, and told me everything was all right. She got some kid to bring me another scooter. As I moved away on the new one, the kid started cleaning up my mess. I was so embarrassed.

A whole lot less glad

On the, now very painful, drive home, I wished I had been drunk. Then I’d have an excuse, other than pure stupidity. Also, that might’ve eased things while talking to my wife later. Yes, I made it back to my chair without further incident. However, once she saw the jelly on my pants. It was all over.