(no subject)
Dec. 12th, 2001 04:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
inahandbasketOk, I just have to share.
I'm on the phone with the Girl, and all of a sudden I hear screaming from the living room of my suite, then a door slams.
This is fairly standard around here, as I live with two psychopathic males and 2 relatively introverted females and thus the psychos get the run of the place. (I just live here.)
Thus I pay it no attention.
A few minutes later I hear him (the screamer) in his room on the phone with his girlfriend speaking in a high-pitched quiet frantic end of the world type voice about how he's going to have to have his hand amputated.
Starting to get a little worried I go to check on him once I get off the phone.
He found the door to the suite locked and he NEVER takes his keys with him. I mean never. So after knocking quietly on the door he decides to climb in the window. (we're on the ground floor, no big deal.)
He shows me his war wound which he's been screaming and hyperventilating about for 5 minutes (he's pale at this point and sweating).
he has a small red dot on the palm of his hand with a tiny red line leading away from it. I have to look very close to even determine what it is, and the result is a tiny (slightly dull pencil tip sized) blood blister.
He grew up in Houston, and he's not.. shall we say.. the outdoorsy type. In the least. Rather the opposite. He's a college student who likes to throw wine and cheese partys in our living room while the neighbors kill 2 kegs among 10-15 people.
after a good long laugh at him I finally take pity as he's still freaking out, and take him back to my room and bandage his hand up.
The poor boy.
He's considering asking his Dean for an extension due to medical emergency.
I'm on the phone with the Girl, and all of a sudden I hear screaming from the living room of my suite, then a door slams.
This is fairly standard around here, as I live with two psychopathic males and 2 relatively introverted females and thus the psychos get the run of the place. (I just live here.)
Thus I pay it no attention.
A few minutes later I hear him (the screamer) in his room on the phone with his girlfriend speaking in a high-pitched quiet frantic end of the world type voice about how he's going to have to have his hand amputated.
Starting to get a little worried I go to check on him once I get off the phone.
He found the door to the suite locked and he NEVER takes his keys with him. I mean never. So after knocking quietly on the door he decides to climb in the window. (we're on the ground floor, no big deal.)
He shows me his war wound which he's been screaming and hyperventilating about for 5 minutes (he's pale at this point and sweating).
he has a small red dot on the palm of his hand with a tiny red line leading away from it. I have to look very close to even determine what it is, and the result is a tiny (slightly dull pencil tip sized) blood blister.
He grew up in Houston, and he's not.. shall we say.. the outdoorsy type. In the least. Rather the opposite. He's a college student who likes to throw wine and cheese partys in our living room while the neighbors kill 2 kegs among 10-15 people.
after a good long laugh at him I finally take pity as he's still freaking out, and take him back to my room and bandage his hand up.
The poor boy.
He's considering asking his Dean for an extension due to medical emergency.
