3.5 stories
In 6th grade, during an after-school model rocket club meeting, someone absent-mindedly set a hot glue gun down...on my hand. As I wasn't looking either, it rested there, tip on my knuckle, for several seconds before the searing heat percolated up into my brain. That was the only time I was ever forgiven for swearing in front of a teacher.

I've also got a scar on the corner of my chin from a time when I fell off my bike at top speed. I slid about 10 feet on concrete, dragging my face the whole way. Thankfully I was wearing a helmet (ALWAYS wear a helmet FFS!) and so the only part of my head that actually contacted was the corner of my chin--which was very neatly ground off flat.

I also have a disturbingly large number of needle scars from an extended hospital stay--you can't leave an IV needle in one spot for more than 2 or 3 days, and I was in for 2 months, so they stuck both my arms up right good. For a while I looked like a recovering heroin addict. This same hospital stay is also responsible for 7 scars about my chest that make it look like Brutus and his gang practiced Ceasar's assasination on me.

Although not really a scar, I did burn the fingerprints off my left hand once, by trying to clean a stove right after it had been used. I picked up the spider to wipe under it and OH SHIIII.... If you're planning a life of crime, just wear gloves--the pain isn't worth it.
(+3 Baroque Vambrace of Icthyology, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 1:41, Reply)