I’ve rubbed off on The Viking. It happened slowly at first so I didn’t really give it much thought, but with the latest incident, I can’t ignore the evidence any longer. He’s a Viking Klutz.
In the past few years, he’s had a couple of war wounds. He banged his leg on a sharp something in the shop, left it to fester for a week, and then presented me with a Sweet-Baby-Jesus(!) oozing wound that required intensive pampering to heal. He sliced his finger, again in the shop, that sent us to Emergency to have it stitched up before he bled to death. And other less spectacular injuries that I don’t have time to list.
However, no previous incident can compare with his latest mishap. It comes with a Red Alert Warning, too.
Turn back now if you are squeamish about Bums. Asses. Derrieres. Cracks-of-Dawns, or any other euphemism that applies to the muscles upon which you sit.
The day was the same as any other day around here. The Viking went out to the shop, as per usual, and I was doing my own somethings in the house, as per usual. From time to time, there were shouts and cursing seeping into the house from the shop, but I don’t even notice them anymore. The Viking excels at verbalizing his frustrations, very often and at very high decibels, and I’ve developed almost total deafness for sounds coming from the shop.
There came a moment though, that got a tiny piece of my attention for a tiny amount of time. It was just a second, a blip, a staccato peep, that I dismissed almost immediately even though the sound was not usually part of The Viking’s repertoire. In my defense, I just thought he was extraordinarily annoyed with a something that required an extraordinary curse. It was only later that I realized the significance of that blip.
Two hours later, I had reason to visit the shop and found a quiet Viking leaning to the left in his office chair. “I really wrecked myself this time, babe.”
“Oh? What happened?”
He lurched out of his chair to recreate the events that ‘wrecked’ him, just stopping short of actually suffering the injury again. Apparently, he tripped over a trailer hitch and fell backwards. The lock part of the hitch was sticking straight up and that’s what he landed on. On his ass. His right ass cheek, to be exact. A centimeter (half inch give or take) to the left and he would have completely lost his virginity.* He whipped his pants down so I could get a look, and it wasn’t pretty. The offended spot had a shallow cut and the area around it was already turning black and purple and was becoming hard as a rock.
“Holy shit!! Does it hurt?” Well, of course it hurt! He wouldn’t have bothered mentioning it if it didn’t.
Within an hour, half of his bum was purple. Two hours later his entire right bum cheek was purple and spreading to the left cheek.
I couldn’t look away. It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen! I really wanted him to just stand in the kitchen, naked from the waist down so I could observe the exponential expansion of Bruise Willis and poke it often for ripeness.
It was so wildly unbelievable that I had to share it. I sent a picture to his brother in Denmark which got an immediate response of “What the fuck happened?!” I sent a picture to my daughter which got a quick response of….
Which made me go…..
I’m not totally without a heart though. It was obvious – from my close scrutiny and poking of Bruise Willis – that The Viking was going to need some way to sit down. So, we jury-rigged a pillow and an ice pack. The following day it was no better and probably even worse. The whole thing was so massive I started to get a bit concerned. Can you get a blood clot in your bum that could travel to your brain/lungs/heart?
“Maybe we should go to a medical clinic.” The Viking thought it was unnecessary but on the third day without any improvement, I forced the issue.
The Doctor was a young guy in his late twenties or early thirties and after a brief explanation from us, he told The Viking to drop his pants. I think the guy thought we were over-reacting to a minor bruise, but he was thoroughly impressed.
“OH! WOW! How did you do that?”
Long story short: The Viking will live to fall another day, we shouldn’t be concerned about blood clots, and here’s a prescription for the pain. However, Bruise Willis earned The Viking some pampering and a couple sick days off work.
And this brings us to the title of who is the biggest Klutz in the house. I received two points – one for an infected tooth and another for my spectacular skid across the industrial carpet at the back door. I also received a bonus point for doing it in front of a customer. The Viking received three points – one for the oozing leg wound, one for the nearly amputated finger, and one point for Bruise Willis. He also received two bonus points for style.
With 5 points for presentation and creativity, The Viking is now the Champion Klutz. Long live the Klutz!
*I didn’t say that right then though because that I thought it might be too soon.
