When I wear short sleeves (which is unusual for me), people often notice a prominent scar on my left forearm. It runs on the inner side for about 8 inches up from my wrist and even has the scars where the sutures were. It’s very impressive.
When asked about it, I usually pause a moment, as if considering, and tell them, “Knife wound.” I might further comment that I was in “the wrong place” at the time and that I had to drive myself to an emergency room. Occasionally I will add some details about a fight…that are absolutely fictional.
In truth, I slipped and stuck the end of a fillet knife into my forearm and cut a few tendons. I DID have to drive myself to the ER, but only because the guy I was with couldn’t drive my stick shift. The scar I have is actually where the orthopedic surgeons had to open my arm in order to get to the severed ends of the tendons. They then repaired them and closed me up. I used my arm more than I should have during recovery and the scars came to be more prominent than they would normally.
Another scar from washing dishes but exactly where on the wrist that people slash themselves. I’ve had more than one person comment on it.
Back forever ago, I was working for a document company in Japan and a friend and I made up fake business cards for some ridiculous joke company. This is before people or most companies had inexpensive but high quality printers so actually having a business cards seemed really legitimate.
We would have these over-the-top conversations at bars and people couldn’t decide if they should believe us or not, and then we’d pull out these professionally made cards. Good old days
That reminds me of a prank I helped my parents pull. In the vpre-internet, very early days of personal computing/home printers, a lot of older folk weren’t aware that technology was enabling much more professional-looking documents to be produced at home.
My parents and a couple they were friends with had a huge argument over something ridiculous like “how many violin players are there in the Boston Symphony Orchestra?” My parents asked me to send them a letter, ostensibly from the BSO, as if they had enquired and gotten the answer they believed to be correct.
I made up a BSO letterhead and wrote a courteous “thank you for your inquiry, the correct answer is [whatever].” My parents loved it, and the other couple totally fell for it.
I stopped doing this because it really bothered my gf to see how people reacted. I have always had people approach me, swearing they’ve met me before. I guess I have “one of those faces”.
So, when people persisted that they were sure we’d met, I’d put on my prison stare, look them dead in the eyes, and ask, “you ever done hard time?” I thought it was funny, my gf did not. Some people were really disturbed by my question.
And covered in great detail with 8x10 glossies and diagrams in the 9-Hole Review. Yes, sadly a sixth terrorist not targeted jumped on the bus and opened fire.
What was it about that line? It’s factual in that armed robbery is a 40 year offense, attempted murder at that time was a 25 year offense. What would have blown it is if I said he got it with no parole. In the mid-70’s a 65 year sentence would have been released in 13 years. Or less.
No, I asked if she knew this evening and she didn’t know how I got it either. I’m sure at some point early in life I could have told you, but now? Heh! No
I have a big 5"long, .5" wide scar on the inside of my bicep from falling out of a tree as a third grader(it was way bigger back then, but my arm grew). In college I used to tell any interested girl a wild tale about being attacked by a guy with a knife and he slashed me as I held up my arm in defense before I subdued him. Always worked like a charm! I still use it when someone asks about it, but not for such nefarious purposes as I always tell the real tale afterward.
