I went apple and raspberry picking last week. I made short work of the berries (mmm raspberries), but I mostly ignored the apples. They started getting a little mushy so I decided it was time to make some applesauce. I do not own any fancy apple-processing equipment, so I went at them with a potato-peeler and a sharp knife
Soon after starting my apple-cutting, little sister calls me on the phone to discuss her impending visit next weekend. I’m happily chatting away and slicing away when…whoops! that mushy apple breaks apart and the knife (did I mention that it’s sharp) embeds itself nicely in my thumb, near the tip.
Ow
Blood
Everywhere
Everywhere
Gallons
Metric Asstankers
So what does our fearless hero do? That’s right, he phones his Mommy. Hooboy, I just was wondering whether I should bother spending all night trying to get some stitches put in. Nope, that should be least of my concerns. Tetanus, gangrene, amputations…it looks like i’m going to die of this. Ah Mother, you’re so reassuring.
I put a bandaid on it.
Upon returning to my work, I see that I didn’t get any blood in the apples. I borrowed a corer/slicer thingy from the cute girl who lives downstairs and went back to my saucing.
It tasted pretty good.