Since my mother is a big fan of Jim Kramer's and I caught a bit of his show tonight-- in which he slammed the stock through which my mother has decimated my retirement account-- I thought I would call her to let her know.
While I was talking to her I realized I should probably tell her about my arm. I had consciously chosen not to up to today so as not to worry her... Vanessa actually asked me today what my mom had to say about all this and I had to admit I hadn't told her. No need to cause unnecessary panic. But now that it's under control, I opted to tell her.
A.: I cut my forearm. It's fine now.
Mom: What? How?
A.: I slipped on something and reached my arm out to catch myself, but instead my arm went through the window that's on the back door.
Dad: What happened then?
A.: I called 911, they came to get me, and sewed up my arm. Now it's fine.
[I decided to skip the part about the flap and the thirteen stitches-- they just don't need to know.]
Mom: We have the most beautiful marinated mushrooms... all kinds, and I have several marinades going, with different amounts of garlic...
[Normally, for effect, I would transcribe most of the monologue that ensued, but typing with one arm isn't conducive to that kind of detail and it's not the kind of art I'm willing to suffer for.]
[Five minutes later:] Some of the mushrooms are twins... What else did I want to tell you? Did you know that the Potomac is so polluted that it has bisexual, er... hermaphrodytic fish?
A.: I didn't know that.
Dad: What happened to your arm?
A.: I cut it, it's been stitched, I'm fine.
Mom: What did Kramer say about Crystallex stock?
[And so on].
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