I recently watched a movie called Stigmata, which is about a woman who is suffering from some sort of Jesus disease that causes her to receive wounds for no apparent reason. After receiving these injuries, she usually runs into a busy street and starts screaming like a maniac before one of her friends tackles her and drags her to the sidewalk. This cycle of being wounded and then running into traffic repeats about four or five times throughout the movie before some guy finds an old scroll written by Jesus and then she stops receiving mysterious injuries resembling the crucified body of Christ. I didn’t really understand this movie, but I did think it was funny that she kept running into traffic. “Ah! My face is bleeding for no reason! Now I have to go run into traffic!”
None of this is truly relevant to anything, but I wanted to mention it because it reminded me of how I’ve never really been physically injured in my entire life. This is my greatest regret. Occasionally I’ll see somebody with a cast over their arm, or somebody hobbling along on crutches, or somebody strutting around with a black eye, and I’ll just get really jealous. In my entire life history, I’ve never gotten wounded in any way. I’ve never broken or even sprained a single bone and I’ve never needed stitches, and in fact the last time I was the patient of a hospital I was being born. I’m either very durable or a big wuss. While not receiving injuries may sound like a good thing, you must consider the fact that I have no stories to tell about fantastic bicycle accidents, or about falling off of trees, or about having knife fights in the street. The single scar I have is a small one on the side of my right hand, but that doesn’t count because I was only a small baby when it happened. Apparently, as I was still learning how to keep my balance while standing up, my parents thought that it might be a good idea to let me run around the room with a glass bottle in my hand, and eventually I fell down and the bottle broke. I’m currently looking into whether or not this incident can be considered a form of child abuse, but I do know that it doesn’t count as a viable injury.
People with injuries really piss me off. They’ll hobble up to you on crutches with their leg all up in a cast and just look at you, waiting for you to ask what happened to them. Then you have to just roll your eyes and say, “OK, what happened?” They’ll say, “Well, I was skiing in Vermont while you weren’t doing anything cool at all, and then my leg broke while I was being awesome. Want to sign my cast?” It’s like, alright, you went skiing in goddamned Vermont and were being extreme. Do you have to rub it in with your broken leg? I’d really like to kick these people’s asses.
I’m very bitter about this. If you ever see me on the street, feel free to sneak up behind me with a baseball bat and bash my shoulder. That would be sweet.
By the way, I’m just kidding. Don’t really do this. I’m going to be very angry with you if you bash my shoulder in with a baseball bat.
