How Gucci Saved My Life
Thursday I was loading up the truck with the old window remnants left over from the new window installation. I was stacking up the wood and glass trying to get as much in as I could. In my determination, I was bending a board that seemed almost willing until it THWACKED! me in the side of the head. Were it not for wearing my Gucci prescription sunglasses, I might have lost my right eye. As it was, the glasses went flying while my brow split open. I felt the sting as sweat mixed into the wound and with my finger I smeared the blood when I touched it to make sure of my bleeding. That's when I noticed the rusty nail sticking out of the board that had just beaten me.
I looked across the road to see if the neighbors were watching. They weren't. At least, not in plain sight.
I then wondered how I would get help had I needed it. Would I have jumped in the truck and driven the quarter mile to the fire station? would I have walked inside the house and called 911? would I have passed out in the middle of the pavement en route to Ralph's across the street where he was happily ensconced in his Garden of Eden, oblivious to the tall redhead crawling his way on all fours with a board and nail sticking out of her head?
I reached my gloved hand to my Gucci's and the sunglasses showed no signs of having been to war. The only clear memento was on my right brow, oozing red just west of my temple. Had the board landed a bit further inland, it might have broken up the canyons at the bridge of my nose, just between my eyes where time has spent many long days worrying away the epidermis.
I remembered the will my attorney, The Brainiac, drew up for me before I went skydiving three years ago; in that will, in the event mr. zippy does not survive me, I leave everything in trust for my nephew with his mother has the trustee.
"Fuck!" I said outloud with a laugh, thankful it was only the board that struck me and not its rusty companion.
With the sunglasses back in place, I finished loading up the wood, happy to have the task done at last. When I finally saw myself in the mirror, I was already bruising, but the wound was not so deep it needed stitches. It throbbed and the pain was already set in, but the whole of my body ached from three days of hard physical labor and the Darvocet would just have to cover one more bit of woe.
