PART 1

It was no wonder my opponent won the contest this past Saturday, having a several thousand pound weight advantage on me. Crossing 24th Street at Bartlett in the crosswalk, I had safely made it to the middle of the near lane when the speeding gas-guzzler surprise attacked me from my left, sending me over its hood and crashing into the windshield with my head, upon which the glass partly collapsed directly in front of the driver. Apparently, not expecting a visitor, he hit the brakes and sent me flying 10 feet through the air. I landed on my left elbow and the back of my head to cushion my fall on the pavement. All of this excitement was a bit too much stimulation for my consciousness, which decided to check out.

While I couldn’t be certain, the man questioning me apparently was not St. Peter. The faces of the inquisition hovered over me. I couldn’t determine whether the lead interrogator’s questions were simple or metaphysical. “Do you know who you are?"

“Robert Harrison.”

“Where are you?” Perhaps they were lost. Well, I certainly wasn’t the best person to ask, given that I was lying somewhat uncomfortably on my back on the pavement and couldn’t get a good perspective on my surroundings.

“The Mission district of San Francisco.” It seemed that this was exactly the answer another vociferous man wanted to hear.

““You’re fine. Get Up!”

“Lead interrogator: “Don’t move; I’m calling an ambulance.”

“The vociferous man, apparently the driver of the vehicle, disagreed with the first man. “C’mon, you’re fine. You don’t need an ambulance. Stand up. Stand UP!” While I appreciated his optimism, several less partial observers dissented.

The EMTs strapped me to a straight board, loaded me into the back of the ambulance, and sped towards the hospital. While I was hooked up to an IV and had an oxygen mask strapped to my face, I was subjected to more remedial questions. Once again, I must have answered correctly, for I was awarded the grand prize in the ER. Still strapped down, no less than three beautiful woman literally tore my off my pants and started touching me all over. Yes, despite the less-than-beautifying effects of the oxygen mask and two Ivs, they could not control themselves. However, you probably recall that I am already quite happily in love with my devoted woman-friend, Amy. Amy has a sixth sense for danger. I guess she sensed that three women were tearing off my clothes and touching my naked body as I lay helpless to resist. She promptly rushed to the ER to put an end to it. She did however approve of male-doctor-administered X-rays, CAT-scans, and some impressive machine that pinged. The X-rays revealed that I had luckily escaped with merely a sprained leg. I held my breath for the results of the CAT-scan tests... It was a miracle! Despite having enjoyed hundreds of Grateful Dead concerts, the doctor proclaimed my brain to be fully functioning. Thus having passed all of these tests and the approval of the machine that pinged, I earned some Percosets and a shot of morphine (probably administered to prevent me from telling any more ER jokes to the attendant RN). Today, I’m in pretty good shape, hobbling around on crutches and suffering only from unknown damage to my left knee. I go in for ligament tests tomorrow. I don’t know what the prize may be, but I hope that I pass again.

Knocking on pavement,

Rob


PART 2

Ah yes, my armpits are much happier today. Upon my visit to the orthopedic specialist, he placed the palm of his hand on my forehead and declared, "Heal!" "Heal, I say, and cast aside these crutches, for The Almighty will not let you fall if you believe in him!" Well, maybe not exactly like that, but the doctor torqued my leg and, without benefit of an expensive machine that goes "ping" declared that I'm only temporarily afflicted with a mere case of tendonitis and strained ligaments. Yes, I'm now ambulating like any other regular guy with strained knee ligaments who was hit by an oversized american car 11 days ago. In short–as I walk with one leg bent more than the other–I'm walking in circles, circumnavigating, if you will. So much for any big lawsuit, but I'll take what I have and run with it.

Psyched,

Rob

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