Gooey lumps
On one particular occassion when I was about 9 or 10, I had occassion to be swinging about on a rope in the cellar. It was all great fun, with my brother and me taking it in turns to swing about like so many little monkeys.

My little sister (then aged about 5) soon tired of this little game, and decided instead to play with a pole from a wardrobe. Where it came from is still a mystery, but what happened next is certainly not.

It was my turn on the bit of rope, and I pulled myself up with my arms. At this exact moment, my little sister decided to charge me with the pole and jabbed me in the leg. This caused me to let go, and be impaled in the pole.

She pulled the pole away quickly, and an inch wide, inch and a bit deep lump of flesh flopped out of the back of my leg and stuck to my skin.

I couldn't actually feel anything wrong, so everyone screaming made me a little curious, so I felt the back of my leg. I put my finger in the hole, thought "hmm, that's not right", and promptly set off upstairs.

My mum's friend, a little on the squeamish side, had popped round for a cuppa at some point during this commotion.

"I think I've cut myself" says I, really not bothered because my nerves were either in tatters or in shock. I turned round to demonstrate, and said friend promptly fainted.

Turns out that just plopping the lump back in and holding it in place with sticking plaster was sufficient, and I now sport a lovely horseshoe shaped scar on the back of my left leg. It has stretched as I have grown, so it is a respectable 2 inches across now, and provides a great talking point every time I take my trousers off in front of complete strangers.

No apologies for length. You love it, you filthy minx.
( Evil|berT is posting post-hummusly, Fri 2 Jun 2006, 13:36, Reply)