Friday, June 17, 2005
Actually, it was an accident. Or at least that's my story and I'm sticking to it. It goes a little something like this...
Christmas Eve, 1981. I had been feeling bad all day and told my parents that my back and my tummy hurt and I felt hot. My mom put her hand on my head and said, "Yeah, you feel a little warm" and left it at that. She had bigger problems, as my dad's best friend was visiting. We called him "Uncle ______" and for the sake of anonymity, we'll call him "Uncle L" here (I think it's always creepy when you call a grown man "Uncle" and you're aren't truly related to him). He was batshit crazy just like my dad. He was in the FBI, single and in his late 30s, lived with his mother, and raised rabbits and bulldogs in his spare time. Creepy. And he was a survivalist freak, which means that instead of getting books or a toy as a present, we got throwing stars and pellet guns. At least my crazy ass Dad would buy me a Barbie. (I'll give you guys some Uncle L installments in the future, including the one where he trained me to collapse a man's trachea with one punch - I'm deadly, bitches!).
So we go about our Christmas Eve business, and I felt worse and worse. Finally, my mom took my temperature, and it was almost 103. My dad suggested giving me Tylenol, but Uncle L said "To hell with that - I'm taking her to the emergency room" and loaded me up into the car (without either one of my true legal guardians with us) and took off to the local hospital (mom and dad pulled their shit together shortly and followed us there). Being that it was Christmas Eve, and this was St. Mary's and it was 1981, there were plenty of nuns around in full nun gear. I had never seen a nun before (we were southern baptist until I got us kicked out of the church about a year or two later), so as I was lying in the emergency room bay, delirious from fever and infection, and when the nun came to take my temperature and blood pressure in her big Flying Nun costume, I totally freaked. The moment she got near me, I reared my leg back off the table and kicked her square in the chin. I remember hearing the distinctive click of her teeth slamming together in her mouth, and the tiny trickle of blood that came spurting out of her split lip. She walked off and refused to touch me again (not very Christian of her if you ask me). Some gnarly looking orderly had to come over and get me under control to get my vitals. Turns out I had a kidney infection, and rang in Christmas in the hospital.
My mother was horrified by the whole fiasco. I kicked a nun! In the face! She was hysterical when she related the story to my grandmother, who took my side (I guess) by saying "Well, I guess it was an accident, being as she was delirious from fever and all. But do you think she'll go to hell for making a nun bleed?"
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