Face plant...
It was night, the folks were in bed and my younger brother and I decided the time was right for a final nifty spliff before retiring for the evening.

First things first says I, I need a piss. There's a whole garden to piss in, my brother wisely points out, but I knew best and set off through the darkened house to point Percy at the porcelain.

Walking back through the darkened hallway, I'm in mind of the cupboard that juts out menacingly into the path of unsighted muppets like myself, so I set my arms swinging across my body and out to the sides as a rudimentary cupboard detector thing.

My timing couldn't have been worse as both arms reached the outer extreme of their swing, just as my face made acquaintance with a poorly placed corner.

A dull thud complimented the 'oof' that I emitted and I staggered back a little, slightly stunned.

I gave my head a cursory touch and, sensing nothing amiss, continued my journey unperturbed by the collision.

It was only when I wondered back into the living room, ready to convey the hilarious tale of my cupboardy calamity that I became aware of the stream of claret dripping steadily onto my jumper.

It was more than a little tricky explaining the bulging, bloodied mess on my forehead as I came down for breakfast in the morning.
( Moey, Thu 7 Aug 2008, 15:47, Reply)