completely blocked

this THING on my leg is quite the annoyance. everywhere i limp, people ask about it. that in and of itself is not a bad thing, it's the fact that they think we're friends because they have had a scraped up leg/knee/elbow/uncle at one point in time. since i am not in any condition to run away from these people, i have no choice but to use my orange belt in verbal judo to flip their words until they stop talking to me. here is a sample conversation from last night:

Random Old Obese Navy Man: 'that looks nasty!'

Matty America: 'want to touch it?'

ROONM: 'um... how'd you do that?'

MA: 'man i'm hungry...'

ROONM: 'my brother fell off his motorcycle and tore himself up pretty badly.'

MA starts hobbling away

ROONM: 'hey, do you need some help with those bags?'

MA: 'i'm pretty sure that this limp is contagious, you should keep your distance.'

i had just ordered food, and the conversation started while i was sitting on a bench near the pickup window. my number was called and i was getting some good space between myself and that lardy disgrace to the armed forces, very content with ending the conversation without it getting awkward (note: i did ask him if he had any interest in tonguing my wound, which isn't an awkward offer when coming from a total stranger... right?). after a few minutes of walking like a street thug, i was overtaken by my new jowly pal, and the conversation resumed.

ROONM: 'hey you werent kidding about walking slowly!'

MA: (Laughing) 'ha ha i hope you break your knee!'

ROONM: 'wait, what?'

MA: 'i said i have to pee.'

i then skillfully manuevered myself into a port-o-potty and proceeded to ... stand there. i counted to 30, then exited, terrified i would find Seaman Cankles still waiting for me. he was not.

as i continued on my 5 hour per mile pace back to my humble abode, i had the time to reflect a little on my life. i realized that i walk fast because i am always in a rush to get somewhere. though there are no roses here, i should still stop and try to smell things a little more often. i smiled to myself at this thought, and promised that i would take my time a little more when i'm all healed up.

then, from my left side a kid smoking a cigarette yells 'dude, what the FUCK happened to your leg?'

so it goes...