Spicy's little boo boo
It has been so long since I posted that I almost forgot to tell you about Spicy's accident. So, here we are, slightly drunk, taking tequila shots on the side of a waterfall in the pitch black of Jesmond Dene when someone comes up with the idea that we should all have a singalong, which is fine. If the tequila had been affecting me in the slightest I would have participated more. The best rendition had to be of Boom Boom Boom, but we never got past the intro.
Aaaanyway, someone who shall remain nameless, decided it would be a great idea if we did some paddling down to the base of the waterfall. Fortunately I wasn't anywhere near drunk enough and I decided I'd rather sit there and sing to myself (and I do do quite a nice rendition of Velvet Revolver's Fall to pieces if my throats in the mood and the acustics are good). Minutes pass and after my fifth rendition of the same chorus the gang come trundling back. I notice that Spicy is struggling a little and I give him a hand. "Give us a look at me foot ya wee English jessy" he said to me (or words to that effect) and so I did. Not only were there pools of blood following him, but there was a matching gash on the bottom of his foot where he had had an unfortunate run in with some glass. Needless to say the glass had probably come out of this ordeal a shade better off.
As everyone began to panic, I told Spicy to tie it up and we'd pop round to the hospital. Before that however, I got the most overwhelming feeling of hunger. The open wound actually made my mouth water and for days after I couldn't look or think of that foot without my stomach rumbling. As it started to heal I became less hungry, but up until then I was famished in it's prescence. I'm the same with wildlife programmes. When I see a gazelle or zebra taken down and devouered I get the urge to join in. Talk about your primal instincts...but why would it happen with a human too? Maybe this cannibalism lark isn't so bad as everyone makes it out to be....okay, now I really need to stop thinking about it, otherwise I'll have to find a late night butchers...or worse.
Once we'd gotten to the hospital and Spicy began to be abused by some doctor who really didn't give a damn, the nameless one and I waited in the waiting room. A fitting name for such a room I'm sure you'll agree. It was here we first met crazy crazy Arthur. Not only did he like my legs, but he insisted on showing us his. I would have been fine with that if he hadn't then started picking them to make them bleed (his own legs that is). After a few death defying feets, throwing his back out, the worst psychic impression of all time, proposing and coming out with the classic phrase "My fondness for you is growing stronger", we left him to his own devices.
By 6am we were out the door, Spicy with drugs and stitchs, the rest of us with fractured and scarred psyche's. By 8am I was getting up for work and spent the rest of the day like a zombie. MMmmmmmm brains.....
Aaaanyway, someone who shall remain nameless, decided it would be a great idea if we did some paddling down to the base of the waterfall. Fortunately I wasn't anywhere near drunk enough and I decided I'd rather sit there and sing to myself (and I do do quite a nice rendition of Velvet Revolver's Fall to pieces if my throats in the mood and the acustics are good). Minutes pass and after my fifth rendition of the same chorus the gang come trundling back. I notice that Spicy is struggling a little and I give him a hand. "Give us a look at me foot ya wee English jessy" he said to me (or words to that effect) and so I did. Not only were there pools of blood following him, but there was a matching gash on the bottom of his foot where he had had an unfortunate run in with some glass. Needless to say the glass had probably come out of this ordeal a shade better off.
As everyone began to panic, I told Spicy to tie it up and we'd pop round to the hospital. Before that however, I got the most overwhelming feeling of hunger. The open wound actually made my mouth water and for days after I couldn't look or think of that foot without my stomach rumbling. As it started to heal I became less hungry, but up until then I was famished in it's prescence. I'm the same with wildlife programmes. When I see a gazelle or zebra taken down and devouered I get the urge to join in. Talk about your primal instincts...but why would it happen with a human too? Maybe this cannibalism lark isn't so bad as everyone makes it out to be....okay, now I really need to stop thinking about it, otherwise I'll have to find a late night butchers...or worse.
Once we'd gotten to the hospital and Spicy began to be abused by some doctor who really didn't give a damn, the nameless one and I waited in the waiting room. A fitting name for such a room I'm sure you'll agree. It was here we first met crazy crazy Arthur. Not only did he like my legs, but he insisted on showing us his. I would have been fine with that if he hadn't then started picking them to make them bleed (his own legs that is). After a few death defying feets, throwing his back out, the worst psychic impression of all time, proposing and coming out with the classic phrase "My fondness for you is growing stronger", we left him to his own devices.
By 6am we were out the door, Spicy with drugs and stitchs, the rest of us with fractured and scarred psyche's. By 8am I was getting up for work and spent the rest of the day like a zombie. MMmmmmmm brains.....
posted by The Warthog at
9:38 pm
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