Every time I tried to position it for the perfect slicing spot, it would wobble and present a not so suitable area for incision.
You know how they can be….
I held it in the place I had chosen and stuffed a dish towel around the bottom to keep it from moving as I prepared to begin disassembling.
The only problem was that I had not put down the recently purchased, brand new, deadly serrated Wal-Mart watermelon knife.
As I tucked the rag under the watermelon with my left hand, I reached up with my right to steady the fruit.
Do you know that feeling that you get when you have cut yourself badly?
It’s a slight bump against the thumb, in this case, a quick cold burn.
You don’t even have to look!
The “stupid” feeling flashes thru my head almost as the speed of light would….
The clatter of the knife falling to the counter or floor….
The watermelon rolling off the counter onto the floor, busting open on top of my perfectly manicured foot and splattering everywhere!
The inevitable “Fuuuuccckkk!!!!”
The jamming of my lacerated hand into the sink while my good hand tries to turn on the water and adjust the temperature at the same time…
It’s always….AND THE ONLY TIME EVER THAT IT COMES OUT SCALDING HOT RIGHT AWAY!!!!
There is blood….
There is too much blood loss….
The yawning expanse of my exposed finger guts peer up at me from under the deluge of boiling water, the bright crimson spouting gushes of arterial finger essence spatter onto the splashboard like a fucked up Jackson Pollock artwork, my recently washed dishes and my favorite ^$%^^& shirt….!
I’m gonna die!!!!
That’s when the burning started….
That’s when I began to feel my heartbeat in my thumb.
I could feel my heart beginning to slow down.
My vision began to blur and little pink fairies were floating around my peripheral vision.
I could hear my deceased Granny “Come to the light Trey, go into the light!”
“I don’t see why blood turns on vampires” I think to myself as the jetting gouts of blood begin to wreck havoc on my mental acuity….
I reach into the junk drawer in a panic, blood spurting ten feet into the air; I begin pushing rubber-bands, paper clips, that frigging key I’ve been looking for the past 3 years, rat turds, plastic spoons and forks and roach motels….
I grab the super-glue…..
I pop off the top of the glue with my good thumb….
I stop my heart just long enough to slow the spurting blood….
I press the fingers of my injured hand against the thumb to push the torn and gaping edges of the serrated wound together and I….
No other way to put it….
I became “Girly-Man”
My vision blurs even more…
“He’s dead Jim…” says Dr. McCoy of the Starship “Enterprise”
“Go into the light, Trey” Granny says again….
“Stupid is as stupid does” says Forrest…Forrest Gump.
As I start to pass out, I reach down deep into my soul for my last spark of survival instinct….
My will to live!!!
I jam the super-glue onto the gushing, ripped injury and squeeze the bottle, spreading the glue over the wound….
[Note to self] Don’t EVER put super-glue on a cut again….
That was a valuable lesson….
After I regained consciousness and was laying there on the floor covered in blood and watermelon, I had an epiphany….
Obviously I am still suffering from the tremendous amount of blood I lost….
I noticed that up until this moment, 49 years of my life, I have never really used my thumb that much in all these years!
Because NOW! Every time I try to use my &^#&** hand, I knock my thumb into EVERYTHING!
Even the *%%***%%^!! Air hurts it!
I can feel my ^$^#%*% heartbeat in my *%&^$&&$ thumb!
SON OF A &^$$%&&e#!!!!
p.s: sorry about the bad language, but my ^%*(()$#!! thumb hurts…
I want my mommy…..