Darth Blonde

My bunch has had a run of shitty luck here lately. I recently posted about the family reunion camping trip from hell. Turns out, something else fucked up happened that weekend, we just didn’t know how fucked up at the time.

As you might recall, we returned home covered in mosquito bites and generally hating the last three days. That evening we decided to water the yard. The Blonde took care of the back, I took care of the front, and we sat our asses on the couch and watched some TV. Before too long we realized that the water was still running and it needed to be turned off and the hoses rolled up. Again, I seen to the front yard, the wife took care of the back. I come back inside to a cacophony emanating from the back yard.


I dashed out the back door to find Pauline wadded up in a pretzel knot lying in the mud. It seems the Blonde, being a bear of very little brain, decided not to use the wooden pallet I had specifically created as a walkway across the dirt for when it rained or we watered.

Nope, she was going four-wheeling! Well, that shit didn’t turn out so well.

After getting her legs untied from one another, I manage to get her back in the house; all covered in mud and in some very obvious pain. I helped her get her muddy clothes changed. I then went through some basic movement testing on her foot. I figured if it was broke, I’d know it fairly quickly. No one position seemed to cause her any more pain than another; certainly a sprain.

It was a matter of maybe an hour and the ankle was turning dark to the point of almost being black. Ok, this is NOT good. “Baby, you really need to go see the doctor. I don’t think it is broken, but something is obviously fucked up.” Tough old broad that she is, she dismissed me, “Nah, it’s just sprained, I’ll be fine.” Ok, I’ll remember you said that.

The next work week was witness to the Blonde waddling around like a duck with a fucked up flipper and a corn cob up its ass. Ever the one to be mindful of my spouse’s health, I constantly reminded her that she really SHOULD take her ass to the doctor. “If it isn’t better by Friday, I’ll go see the doctor” was followed up two days later by “If it isn’t better by Sunday, I’ll go see the doctor.” Are you seeing a pattern here?

I guess it finally got to be too much, and she finally took herself to the doc this past Monday. She called me at work and said they had taken some x-rays, put her in a lightweight brace and sent her home with a promise to call her when they had the results. I asked her if she would call me if she heard anything; “Sure. I love you.” “I love you too, don’t forget to call me”, blah, blah. You know how it goes when you hang up. 

I shit you not, it wasn’t 20 minutes and she had called back. The doctor had called back asking her to come back to the office; they needed to talk to her. My thought? “Damned thing is broken.”

It was getting close to the end of my day, and I had visions of cold beers and BBQ dancing in my head when the phone rang. It was Pauline again. “Well, it’s broke.” Heh! Mind you now, I was certainly concerned that she had a broken bone, but I knew I now had some ‘I told you so’ ammo. “Oh?” She went on to describe the details and I replied with a, “Hmm, I guess you should have taken your dumb ass to the doctor a week ago like I suggested, huh?” She wouldn’t take the bait, but said, “You won’t believe this fucking boot they put me in! It’s huge! It is 10 times bigger than the first brace they sent me home in.” Hmm, I might be able to have some fun with this.

I finally get off of work and head home, wondering how my wife is feeling. I walk in the door to this:

Holy shit! Darth Vader! “Mark, I’m your wife.” (Imagine James Earl Jones to get the full effect) Oh, never mind, turns out it was indeed the big-titted blonde wearing a prop from a Star Wars movie. Whew!  Yeah, no shit Darth, why don’t you fill me in on what happened. Turns out she broke the bone on the bottom part of the joint on the outboard side of the foot. I have tried to indicate where with the circle and the squiggly line:

Needless to say, I have gotten miles and miles out of the whole Darth Vader thing. I honestly feel bad for her, but she should consider herself lucky they didn’t put a screw in that ankle and put a ‘shore nuff’ cast on that leg. There is a downside to the boot; I get to help her in and out of it. It wasn’t too bad the first couple days, but let me tell you, some Febreze best be in our future ’cause that damned boot is starting to smell like someone shoved a dead Ewok up a Wookiee’s ass.

8 Responses to “Darth Blonde”

  1. Thats some funny shit there at the end of course. Sorry to hear that happened, just worry when she starts telling you, “Mark I’m your father!” LOL Hope all goes well and a speedy recovery.

  2. This God damn thing can hurry the fuck up and come off, I know that. If I kick my good ankle with this son of a bitch much more it’s going to be in a cast too.

    Stupid fucking old bones!

    Honestly though, that is a pretty funny post. 🙂

  3. “Ewok up a Wookie’s ass”? And the FIRST thing I thought of was the 1st Wookie of the USA…and what goofy stuff was she doing now.

  4. Ron Highburger Says:

    I have read the entire story and I have just one question…She by chance was not chewing gum at the time this happened …was she???

  5. You know maybe Pauline is MY kid! Sounds like some shit I have pulled. Remember when the the porch swing fell on my leg, WITH ME IN IT!?!

  6. To add even more humor to the situation, I have taken to playing ‘The Imperial March’ from ‘Star Wars’ when I put her boot on her every morning. Of course I laugh my ass off all the way through the song:

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