A few years ago when I was at college, I managed, completely without intent, to almost cause the death by asphyxiation of my closest friend.
It all started as we left the class. Walking along the sidewalk in front of the labs, we were arguing light-heartedly about some insignificant point that had been raised in the lesson. Needless to say, I was right and he was wrong. Eventually, and to my delight, he left himself open and made a particularly stupid comment. There I had him! I had ready a groundbreaking and irrevocable point, one that would have ended our current argument indefinitely with me as the clear victor. I opened my mouth, trying in vain to keep the smug smile off my face. I could almost smell the victory, sense the glory. I took a deep breath… and promptly walked straight into a lamppost. Before I ‘d even realised what had happened, the metallic “dong” sound still ringing out loudly in the air, fate was torturing me again. Totally disorientated, I stepped bewilderedly from the sidewalk and onto the grass verge… straight into a big pile of a dog crap. To this point, the events had taken no longer than 10 seconds, but it was still plenty of time for my friend to be red in the face, making a gurgling noise, and pointing at my shoe. Holding a hand to my bruised face, and trying to muster as much dignity as remained, I began the nasty process of wiping my soiled Nikes on the grass. It was a sticky bugger, and wasn’t coming off easily, and so ignoring my friend’s gasps and gleeful attempts to inform passers by, I proceeded to wipe my shoe on the grass with a little more force. Too much force. I slipped over in the wet and transformed the dog’s little present from a mildly upsetting mess on my shoe, into a disgusting, wet paste running the entire length of my jeans.
Getting to my feet, and turning to face the now fairly large crowd of people pointing and laughing, I accepted my fate, and gave them a bow and a wave. By this point my friend, who suffers from asthma, was gasping for breath, bright purple, collapsing onto his knees, and reaching frantically for his inhaler. He had to spend the next two days at home recuperating. Strangely enough, I wasn’t overly concerned for his health at the time.
He still merrily tells the tale to any new girlfriend I introduce and to anyone else that will listen.
Has anyone else almost committed manslaughter in a humorous way?