The Envelope Pushes Back
or, "Wildfire Nightmare Intensifies as Experts Suspect Arizona Somewhere in US"
Predator Press
[LOBO]
With one of possibly two surgeries out of the way and three broken bones, I have joked that I am God’s football due to the stitches. But through perseverance, I’ve got my mobility back up to about 75% within a month.
Which is good. Maybe I can retire the crutch. And I can wear shoes on both feet now, so I don’t ruin a sock every time I wobble around the block. Consequently I can worry less about the occasional broken glass shard or poisoned ninja throwing star being launched through my vulnerable heel in the middle of an intersection. (The broken glass thing happens at least twice as many times as the ninja thing: today's ninja is just not what it used to be.)
But because I kinda look healthy (I cut my wrist cast off yesterday too), I’m confusing people: a random spasm might find me inexplicably offering counter-crossing pedestrians the look a cow gives you as you pull up to a fine steak restaurant. Cops, misinterpreting my tender pain-addled gait, circle constantly suspecting I am drunk ... or maybe tryin to protect me from a mullet-sporting vintage Camaro driver with a glove box full of Viagra, roofies, and rolls and rolls of duct tape.
Either way I'm compelled to admit I am completely toxic with pain medications. Prior to the back surgery, I shrewdly purchased a handful of used PS2 and Xbox games for my convalescing amusement. Currently I have no idea where they are.
For all I know, I might have buried them in the back yard.
Predator Press
[LOBO]With one of possibly two surgeries out of the way and three broken bones, I have joked that I am God’s football due to the stitches. But through perseverance, I’ve got my mobility back up to about 75% within a month.
Which is good. Maybe I can retire the crutch. And I can wear shoes on both feet now, so I don’t ruin a sock every time I wobble around the block. Consequently I can worry less about the occasional broken glass shard or poisoned ninja throwing star being launched through my vulnerable heel in the middle of an intersection. (The broken glass thing happens at least twice as many times as the ninja thing: today's ninja is just not what it used to be.)
But because I kinda look healthy (I cut my wrist cast off yesterday too), I’m confusing people: a random spasm might find me inexplicably offering counter-crossing pedestrians the look a cow gives you as you pull up to a fine steak restaurant. Cops, misinterpreting my tender pain-addled gait, circle constantly suspecting I am drunk ... or maybe tryin to protect me from a mullet-sporting vintage Camaro driver with a glove box full of Viagra, roofies, and rolls and rolls of duct tape.
Either way I'm compelled to admit I am completely toxic with pain medications. Prior to the back surgery, I shrewdly purchased a handful of used PS2 and Xbox games for my convalescing amusement. Currently I have no idea where they are.For all I know, I might have buried them in the back yard.
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