My Hump

I did some pretty hardcore headbanging over the weekend.

I was alone at home giving my dog a much-needed bath. After adjusting the heater knob to rinse her down, I bent back down without looking where my head was going, and ______ it against the ceramic soapdish on the wall. My teeth clattered.

(If you can find a superlative of the word 'hit', please insert it in the blank space above.)

I crouched back down and swore generously as I rubbed my forearm against my forehead. Blood. My future looked bleak, but I was not intent on dying in a shower with a soapy dog.

I rinsed Pepé up as fast as I could as my eyes welled up from the pain. I continued to swear generously. I started to feel nauseous. But no, I was still not intent on dying in a shower with a soapy dog.

Once the water ran remotely clear, I turned off the water as Pepé shot out through the shower curtain to shake herself dry. I groped my way toward the mirror. There was a small cut above my right eyebrow, surrounded by an intimidating smudge of red and purple. And black. Black? I first deemed it the normal headrush from getting up too quickly, but I was gravely mistaken. It was an intense pitch black that refused to budge out of my vision. My chest started to burn and my knees began to buckle. I bent over the sink, held on tight, and waited. Crap. I lowered myself into a squat with my hands clasped around my cranium, and helplessly watched my dog shake herself silly and make a slippery mess of the bathroom floor. If I died now, at least it would not be in the shower, and the dog would be clean.

Once the feeling dissipated, I staggered out and into my room. I collapsed onto my bed, my ears shrinking under a deafening ring. It morphed into an orchestral crescendo.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I need my Mommy.

I grabbed the mobile phone coincidentally lying next to me and gave her a ring. Thank goodness the family was already on their way back from breakfast. As she repeated to the rest in the car about what had happened, I could hear my father in the background blaming me for not taking my vitamins, not exercising and not eating right, amongst other universal reasons for unfortunate circumstances befalling his sugar dumpling of a daughter.

The folks got back, and Mom came upstairs with the dreaded ice pack. The swelling reduced significantly, and I regained some sense of orientation to get back on my feet. I cancelled my plans with friends and stayed at home to recover from a persistent daze.

I felt stupid for the rest of the day. I was not sure it it was at the fact that the accident was a result of my clumsiness, or if my IQ really dropped a few points from the trauma. It reminded me of an interactive Joe Cartoon which I came across a few years ago. (If it rings a bell, Joe Cartoon was responsible for the Frog Blender and Micro-Gerbil internet craze circa 2000.)

I never thought I would have been able to say it in this lifetime, but I can relate to James Brain.