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A Public Warning of Apocalypse to Come
Apr. 3rd, 2005 02:58 pmSo.
I was wearing a poncho-style sweater last night over a turtleneck, and headed down the stairs at a faster-than-strictly-safe rate.
Now, this is normal for me. As![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alliath can confirm, in college I tended to run from Point A to Point B whenever I could get away with it without looking like a total idiot (and sometimes when I couldn't). I still do. And if I'm not running, I'm usually doing the powerwalk thing, which annoys the crap out of my friends. I'm not sure why this appeals to me so much. (Borderline obsessive-compulsive? Oh, well. At least I get exercise.)
But the net result was that last night, I was headed down the stairs at aforesaid faster-than-safe rate. This worked well for me until I got to the bannister post at the bottom, at which point the back of my poncho hooked over the post - and caught.
Don't ask me how this occurred. I find it suspicious, personally, because there is nothing to get hung on the back of a poncho! It is, pretty much by definition, just a flap of cloth. How did it hook on the rounded top of a bannister pole? I must conclude it was deliberate ill-will on the part of the garment.
So, back to the event itself. Picture me, quickly stepping off the last landing and continuing on toward the kitchen. Now picture the back of that evil poncho caught on the bannister, and jerking my shoulders back while my legs continued in the other direction. Which is to say, forward. Where the rest of me could not follow. A Moe-like pratfall occurred, only without anything resembling control.
Thus having had my legs quite literally yanked out from under me, I took a dive for the floor. (The hateful poncho, at this point, is still caught on the bannister post.) Consequently, breaking my fall was not really an option. Before I hit the floor, I had that crystalline moment to think Oh, fuck. I'm about to break my back and crack my head open, and Captain and Gary are going to come back home on Monday and find my corpse on the living room floor.
And then I died. Lain-like, I now write this to you from the afterlife, where the high-speed internet is completely free. Ah, Heaven...
...ahem. No. As it turned out, I did not die. I just hit the floor on my back, wrenched the hell out of half a dozen places that one does not generally manage to injure all at the same time, gave myself what I suspect is going to be a spectacular bruise (made all the more impressive by the fact that generally, I don't bruise), and scraped my right arm from elbow to wrist. Through a sweater - also impressive.
It took me several moments of lying on the floor breathing 'holy shit!' before I realized I had not, in fact, broken anything, and decided I'd better get up.
Which was tricky. Because I hurt like hell? Well, yes. But also because the god-forsaken poncho was still hooked over the bannister post.
Those things are evil, I tell you. Pure evil. They're out to take over the world, one person at a time.storm_dancer, I advise you to burn your ponchos, post-haste! I am contemplating doing the same. For the safety of the world, you know.
And for great justice!
Take off every Zig.
I was wearing a poncho-style sweater last night over a turtleneck, and headed down the stairs at a faster-than-strictly-safe rate.
Now, this is normal for me. As
alliath can confirm, in college I tended to run from Point A to Point B whenever I could get away with it without looking like a total idiot (and sometimes when I couldn't). I still do. And if I'm not running, I'm usually doing the powerwalk thing, which annoys the crap out of my friends. I'm not sure why this appeals to me so much. (Borderline obsessive-compulsive? Oh, well. At least I get exercise.) But the net result was that last night, I was headed down the stairs at aforesaid faster-than-safe rate. This worked well for me until I got to the bannister post at the bottom, at which point the back of my poncho hooked over the post - and caught.
Don't ask me how this occurred. I find it suspicious, personally, because there is nothing to get hung on the back of a poncho! It is, pretty much by definition, just a flap of cloth. How did it hook on the rounded top of a bannister pole? I must conclude it was deliberate ill-will on the part of the garment.
So, back to the event itself. Picture me, quickly stepping off the last landing and continuing on toward the kitchen. Now picture the back of that evil poncho caught on the bannister, and jerking my shoulders back while my legs continued in the other direction. Which is to say, forward. Where the rest of me could not follow. A Moe-like pratfall occurred, only without anything resembling control.
Thus having had my legs quite literally yanked out from under me, I took a dive for the floor. (The hateful poncho, at this point, is still caught on the bannister post.) Consequently, breaking my fall was not really an option. Before I hit the floor, I had that crystalline moment to think Oh, fuck. I'm about to break my back and crack my head open, and Captain and Gary are going to come back home on Monday and find my corpse on the living room floor.
And then I died. Lain-like, I now write this to you from the afterlife, where the high-speed internet is completely free. Ah, Heaven...
...ahem. No. As it turned out, I did not die. I just hit the floor on my back, wrenched the hell out of half a dozen places that one does not generally manage to injure all at the same time, gave myself what I suspect is going to be a spectacular bruise (made all the more impressive by the fact that generally, I don't bruise), and scraped my right arm from elbow to wrist. Through a sweater - also impressive.
It took me several moments of lying on the floor breathing 'holy shit!' before I realized I had not, in fact, broken anything, and decided I'd better get up.
Which was tricky. Because I hurt like hell? Well, yes. But also because the god-forsaken poncho was still hooked over the bannister post.
Those things are evil, I tell you. Pure evil. They're out to take over the world, one person at a time.
storm_dancer, I advise you to burn your ponchos, post-haste! I am contemplating doing the same. For the safety of the world, you know.And for great justice!
Take off every Zig.
