Look at the blog, Larry. Just look at that blog.

This is gonna be about Band-Aids. It's pretty great.

Number Four. Yeehaw.

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Howdy, pard’ners-

So, in lieu of the desperate stretching-to-make-these-posts-about-Band-Aids that I’ve been doing for the past couple entries, here’s a childhood memory of mine that is actually centered around Band-Aids. No joke. Ready to… read a story about Band-Aids?

Of course you are.

Put yourself in sunny North Carolina. The Outer Banks, to be specific. Now, add in a family. Can’t be just any family, though. Since this is my memory, let’s go ahead and make it my family. Chances are, the average person reading this doesn’t have a perfect mental image of my childhood to fall back on, and I don’t feel like wasting a ton of time giving a lengthy description of each parent’s physical features, so let’s make this short but still sweet, shall we? Mom. Dad. Older sister. Me (age 14 or so). Dog. There we go. Now, let’s take this picturesque family and sit ‘em down to dinner in their happy vacation home on the beach.

We’re having lobster.  I’m a fan of lobster. It’s not my favorite crustacean, but it’s not like I’d complain about eating lobster, so I’ll just continue on. Now, I wouldn’t call myself the king of lobster de-shelling, but half the fun is in the sweaty, rage-fueled, lobster-insides-soaked battle just to eat dinner, so I tend to enjoy the giddy thrill of taking apart an entire animal an eating it piece by piece. It’s pretty great.

So at this point in lobsterpalooza, I’ve had a few appetizers but hadn’t had the chance to dive into the main event. But when I did, I went for it with gusto. I just tore right into that bad boy. At one point I gave up on using the normal, lobster-dissection tools so I could tear the red menace apart with my bare hands. I start pulling the two halves of a claw apart. Won’t budge. I flex my muscles and really tug at that juicy red claw. I can feel some structural weakness start to open up- I know the battle is mine. I go for the killing blow, every muscle in my body exerting way past any normal comfort levels, all for the sweet, sweet taste of claw. I can almost feel it’s buttery, tender warmth. It’s mine. A wet crunch fills the room, and the deed is done.

I look down at the smashed and broken lobstery victory in my hands, but there’s something off about this feeling. If only I could figure out what…

Oh.

Look at that little jagged bit of shell.

I think it just sliced into my pinky finger.

(Yeah, yeah, yeah- this isn’t exactly life-threatening. But I’m young, and more than a little squeamish, so just go with it).

I look closer at this particular pinky finger. Sure enough, there’s a cut. I try to move it, and the second I do a single drop of blood rises up from the little tear in the skin and starts to ooze its way down my hand. Well, I’m sitting down at this point, but that doesn’t keep my stomach from turning and my vision to blur as I get a serious case of lightheadedness. I need to lie down. Now. Fumbling out of my chair, I head for the nearest bedroom (my parents’, as it turns out) and delicately lay myself down and stare at the ceiling. I’m not sure how much time’s passed, but my dad’s there, having checked in to see if I’m ok. I show him the cut, and then he’s gone from my field of vision. Suddenly there’s something pressed into my hand, and my dad’s back- asking if I feel better now that I’m lying down. I half-lie my way to a yes (nothing hurts worse then wounding a 13 year-olds bizarrely inflated sense of pride), and with my remaining fingers peel apart the Band-Aid my dad had given to me, putting it where it needs to go. I feel better, but still not great, and decide to stretch out my recovery for another 10 minutes or so.

When I’m rested and ready, I bravely attempt the stair back to the kitchen table. A little less hesitant with every step, soon enough I’m back at the table. Every action cool, and calculated, nothing left to chance. My hands perfectly steady, my resolved steeled. I finished the hell out of that lobster.

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Written by mandudeman

February 2, 2011 at 3:30 pm

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