The Crooked Treehouse
  • Tips From The Bar
  • Honest Conversation Is Overrated
  • Popcorn Culture
  • Comically Obsessed
  • Justify Your Bookshelves
  • Storefront

Honest Conversation Is Overrated

Actual Human Interactions Witnessed Or Overheard
In  Twentieth  And  Twenty-First  Century  America

My Friday Was Worser Than Yours

1/16/2007

0 Comments

 
I've been spending a great deal of time at my grandmother's house the last few weeks.As a result, I keep missing garbage day. There are about four full trash bags on my back porch. I made it a point to be home Thursday night, so I could put said trash bags out. I failed to remember. But I did wake up early Friday, to the sound of what, I assumed, was the garbage truck, so I hopped out of bed and on to the arm of the couch, in order to look out the window and see if I had time to get the garbage out. Before I got a clear look, my right leg slid down the arm of the couch, and inbetween the couch's frame and the arm. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

I tried to pull my leg out of the couch, but my ankle was slightly too large. Ow. Shit. Ow. I pulled and pulled and ow.

I started seriously considering dialing 911. The problem being, my cell phone was on the other side of the room, and I was naked. Even if I dragged the couch behind me to the other side of the room, and reached my cell phone and my laundry, there was no way I could get any pants or shorts or boxers or anything around my right foot, what with it being inside the fucken ow couch.

I reached into the dirty laundry pile, threw on a sweatshirt, and wrapped a blanket around my waist. Then, I called Divine's name until she woke up.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" She called.

"I need a knife or something. I'm stuck in the couch."

"What?"

I explained myself. She brought a knife. I cut into the arm of the couch and removed all the cushions. My ankle was stuck between a wooden slat in the arm, and a very pokey metal frame. Whenever I tried to pull my leg up or down, the metal frame would dig into the right side of my ankle, and the wood would scrape against the left side. Ow. Fuck. Ow.

"Should I call 911?" She asked.

I had now been standing on one foot for about ten minutes, with a blanket wrapped around my waist, and a sweatshirt on. If the paramedics showed up, I would, clearly, die of shame. "Yes. I think you should call 911."

"I'm going to use your phone." She said. "I don't want to waste my minutes."

I. Hate. Her.

Ten minutes later, the paramedics showed up. My leg was still in the couch. I said "Just wanted to make sure you had a story to tell when you got home tonight."

"This is nothing." The taller woman said, "The last guy--"

The other paramedic interrupted. "Don't tell him. Then he's going to think we're going to tell the next person about him."

"You aren't?" I asked.

After taking a look at my leg, the inside of the couch, and the rest of my room, the taller paramedic decided she'd use some of the scrap wood left over from my busted doorframe and wedge it between the arm and the frame to get my leg loose. Unfortunately, every time she pried the wood in, the frame dug further into my, ow, ankle.

"I don't know what else we can try." She said.

So they called the fire department.

Fifteen minutes later, four firefighters enter my bedroom. My leg had been in the couch for about forty-five minutes. I was still just wearing the blanket, the sweatshirt, and the couch. And I was still standing on one foot.

Three of the four firefighters were of normal to above average intelligence. One of them had the intellectual capacity of a cactus with blunt head trauma. He was the one in charge. Every time he wanted to look at the situation, he'd lean his full weight against the bottom of the couch, squeezing my, ow, ankle even tighter into the couch cunt.

"Please." I said. "Please don't lean on the couch that way. Could you lean on the arm, maybe?"

The paramedics move all the non-couch furniture, and my laundry, and my books to the other side of the room. The asshole firefighter, again, leaned on the, ow, couch.

"The frame is metal." He said. Fucken genius. "If we tried to cut through it, it'd spark like shit."

I grimace as he, ow, leaned down again. "Good thing the fire department is here, then, huh?"

"I guess we could saw through the wooden beam in the arm, but it's probably going to destroy the couch."

"I think the couch has it coming." I said.

So a firefighter went out to the truck, which must have been parked in Saskatchewan, given how long it took him to retrieve the battery powered saw. The battery powered saw which hadn't been charged.

I had been stuck in the couch for over an hour. The saw didn't work. Fucken Genius asked me "Do you have any electrical outlets?"

"No." I said. "I'm Amish. The TV and the computer run on hand cranks."

The taller paramedic and the other firefighters chuckled. Fucken Genius leaned on the, ow, couch. Asshole.

So another firefighter retrieved an electric saw, plugged it in, and sawed a beam in the arm of the couch. My leg popped right out. No bruise. No swelling.

"We're going to have to take you to the hospital to check it out." The not as tall paramedic said, as the firefighters departed.

"No." I said. "I'm okay." And I hopped up and down on the leg that had been caught in the couch. I really was okay.

So I signed a waiver explaining that I was stupid to not go to the hospital, but then again, I'd gotten my leg caught in a couch, so I was clearly not qualified for MENSA anyway.

Also, I missed the garbage truck.
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Categories

    All
    Asterisk
    Awkward Non Sexual Situations
    Awkward Sex Situations
    Beckee
    Being Gay
    Being Insafemode
    Ben
    Big Honken Liars
    Brookline And Qughincy
    Celeste
    Clarissa
    Comics
    Communication Problems
    Comrade
    Dad
    Dallas
    David
    Deaf Culture
    Dmitri
    Drugs
    Ducks
    Dude
    Elvis
    Emily
    Fledge
    Fortune Cookies
    Fucken Love
    Gay Sex
    Gender
    Hahvahd
    Hampshire Damn College
    Health Problems
    Holidays
    Horrible Pizza Place
    Im A Drunk
    Internet Dating
    Jackie
    Jbob
    Jennifer
    Jeremy
    Jim
    Kevin
    Kimberly Hyphen Surname
    Kimberly Hyphen-Surname
    Landlords
    Literature
    Mr Hpl
    My Family
    My Father
    My Mother
    Odd Jobs
    Online Dating
    Opening A Bottle Rocket With Your Teeth
    Pets
    Poetry
    Police
    Politics
    Quarantine Time
    Rainbortion
    Random Inanity
    Retail
    Roommates
    Ryan
    Saint
    School
    Scotts
    Sir Trick
    Slam
    Slow Flashes
    Sora
    Steggy
    Theatre
    The British Invasion
    The End Of The World
    The Loop
    The Numbers
    Theo
    The Slut Across The Street
    Tommy
    Trick
    Unharry
    Vegas
    Victor
    Wiz
    Zuzu


    Archives

    January 2025
    November 2024
    October 2024
    December 2023
    November 2023
    October 2023
    September 2023
    August 2023
    July 2023
    June 2023
    May 2023
    April 2023
    March 2023
    February 2023
    January 2023
    December 2022
    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    August 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    February 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    May 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    July 2012
    June 2012
    May 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012
    January 2012
    December 2011
    November 2011
    October 2011
    September 2011
    July 2011
    June 2011
    February 2011
    September 2010
    August 2010
    July 2010
    June 2010
    April 2010
    March 2010
    February 2010
    January 2010
    December 2009
    September 2009
    January 2009
    December 2008
    November 2008
    October 2008
    September 2008
    August 2008
    July 2008
    June 2008
    May 2008
    April 2008
    March 2008
    February 2008
    January 2008
    December 2007
    November 2007
    October 2007
    September 2007
    August 2007
    July 2007
    June 2007
    May 2007
    April 2007
    March 2007
    February 2007
    January 2007
    July 2006
    May 2006
    December 2005
    November 2005
    October 2005
    September 2005
    August 2005
    July 2005
    June 2005
    May 2005
    April 2005
    March 2005
    February 2005
    January 2005
    December 2004
    November 2004
    October 2004
    July 2004
    June 2004
    April 2004
    March 2004
    February 2004
    January 2004
    December 2003
    November 2003
    September 2003
    August 2003
    July 2003
    June 2003
    May 2003
    April 2003
    March 2003
    July 2002
    June 2002
    April 2002
    January 2002
    September 2001
    July 2001
    March 2001
    February 2001
    October 2000
    September 1999
    June 1999
    December 1998
    October 1998
    September 1998
    August 1998
    July 1998
    June 1998
    January 1998
    December 1997
    August 1997
    June 1996
    February 1996
    November 1995
    August 1995
    May 1994
    January 1994
    December 1993
    June 1993
    January 1993
    December 1992
    November 1991
    April 1991
    July 1990
    May 1990
    April 1990
    January 1990

    RSS Feed

      Need To Get In Touch With Me?

    Submit
All work on the Crooked Treehouse is ©Adam Stone, except where indicated, and may not be reproduced without his permission. If you enjoy it, please consider giving to my Patreon account.
  • Tips From The Bar
  • Honest Conversation Is Overrated
  • Popcorn Culture
  • Comically Obsessed
  • Justify Your Bookshelves
  • Storefront