Sandwich of Ruin!

Scarred For Life

I have a lot of scars on my body, and for the most part I'm pretty proud of most of them. For me, scars kind of act as memory bookmarks for my life because, honestly, I can tell you the little stories behind pretty much every single one of my scars.

For example, there's a small scar on my left calf where my dog once bit me, and there's a triangle of small scars on my left knee from arthroscopic surgery, and there's a small scar on my left pinky toe from when I shot myself in the foot with a B.B. gun.

Come to think of it, my left leg has apparently been through a lot.

Perhaps one of my more embarrasing scars is a crescent-shaped slice located just below my left ribcage. When people ask me about it, they're usually rather surprised to learn that it was caused by a vacuum cleaner.

Back around the time I earned my driver's license at 17 years old, I also discovered that I enjoyed fishing. So, I spent many summer afternoons lazily watching a river drift by while I tried to mine its depths for fishies.

Well, one day, I went fishing with a couple of friends, Marc and Brian, at a choice fishing spot located on a farm that featured a rather disturbing amount of broken down machinery and other assorted junk.

After about an hour of fishing, during which I caught a disgusting carp as well as hooking one of the most terrifying snapping turtles in all of Minnesota, Marc, Brian and I decided to explore the surrounding area a little bit. This decision was prompted somewhat out of boredom, but also because we all refused to get close enough to that freaky snapping turtle to even attempt to remove the hook.

During our exploratory sojourn, we inspected a considerable amount of junk. There was an old washing machine, a sink, and the gutted shells of several rusted automobiles. Mixed in with all the discarded items, I spied an old vacuum cleaner.

It wasn't an entire vacuum cleaner. Rather, it was vacuum attachment that consisted of a large vacuum head attached to a four foot long pipe, which presumably at one time hooked up to a vacuum hose.

Being the clownish ham that I was (and some would maintain I still am), I decided to use the vacuum to further my budding comedic theatrical career. Grabbing on to the vacuum pipe, I proceeded to run around the area, pushing the vacuum in front of me.

"Look guys!" I yelled. "I'm cleaning up the environment!"

Marc and Brian, apparently unable to grasp how unbelievably funny I was, didn't even so much as laugh, which made me all the more determined to convince them of my comedic genius.

"Rrrrrrrrrr!" I whirred, imitating the sound of a vacuum. "Rrrrrrrr! I'm cleaning the environment right up!"

Unbeknownst to me, concealed in the grass beneath my feet was a mass of barbed wire, which firmly hooked into my pant leg and send me tripping headlong forward.

At that point, an interesting little bit of physical unliklihood transpired. While in midfall, the head of the vacuum cleaner lodged behind a rock, causing the four foot pipe to plant firmly into my gut. From there it was simply a matter of momentum, as the vacuum functioned as a miniature pole vault, launching me head over heels into the air, until I came to rest, uncomfortably, in another tangled, hidden mass of barbed wire.

So, there I was, laying in a pile of barbed wire, my pant leg torn, the wind knocked out of my body, with a large, bleeding, semi-circular gash on my stomach, courtesy of that infernal vacuum cleaner.

Gasping for air, I gradually became aware that Marc and Brian were now finally laughing at me. I mean, they were laughing so hard, Brian at one point fell on the ground holding his stomach. Sure, he was being overly-dramatic, but I have to admit that I deserved it. Even though, at the time, I wanted to beat them both with that vacuum to within an inch of their lives.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why, to this day, I can't stand to vacuum. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

Posted by Ryan at November 18, 2004 04:27 PM