The Malevolent Shampoo And An Old Man Named Carl

Post LXXXIII

Here’s the story of a broken knee, a broken eye, and a broken heart.

Twenty-thirteen was but only two hours old when the screaming began. It had been a long night and I needed a shower. When tapped, my skin made that ear-shattering screech of skin being peeled off leather. Within minutes of starting my shower, I got shampoo in my eye. And it was a lot of shampoo. Imagine pouring an entire bottle of shampoo onto your eyeball. That was how my 2013 started.

The noise of the running water masked my screams of agony as the pain quickly intensified; not even the noise of my feet running to the end of the bath and back could be heard. Of course, bath running never caught on as a sport, and it’s easy to see why. I nearly needed a new kneecap.

In a ball under the shower like a drunk outside during a winter storm, I felt a tear roll down my cheek. Of course, this scenario hardly warranted this assumption. It could’ve easily been the water. Or my eye running as it bulged and groaned, shining bright red. Knowing my luck, it could’ve also been blood. But between having water covering every inch of my body and being blind, it was hard to tell.

Desperately, I stood to my feet. More correctly, foot. I couldn’t really stand on my left leg and if there’s anything more precarious than running on a slippy surface, it’s standing on one leg right beneath a flowing stream of water. If I fell then, I knew it would be the end. Of my dignity.

I managed to get the water shut off but I was dazed and confused. Not to mention the fact I just got shampoo in my eye and had fallen over. I sort of stumbled out of the shower, and by ‘stumbled’, I mean ‘fell through the shower curtain’. It’s one that folds so it didn’t shatter. This was lucky. Because that would’ve been the end. Of my gonads.

As I lay naked on the bathroom floor, still blind, my knee really hurting as well as my eye, lucky to be alive, I started to realize I really shouldn’t ever live alone. I started thinking about building a robot to assist me. I’d decided to call him Harvey. He wouldn’t laugh at these seemingly ridiculous events that keep occurring around me. He’d make me a cup of tea, offer me chocolate and tell me that there’s nothing wrong with crying in an empty house.

Sadly, Harvey didn’t come to my rescue. Which made me whimper. By that point, I’d actually started to find life on the floor quite enjoyable and wondered how long I could last there. Unfortunately, this dream came crashing down to Earth when I realized that I was thirsty. Staying there meant that I would have had to wait until the condensation had started dribbling down the walls as water. And I wasn’t about to lick a door again.

Pain is in the mind. Said John McClane. So, summoning Bruce Willis (in my mind, not by the telephone, because if I had a phone, I’d be ringing someone a tad closer), I managed to stand and look at my battered naked body in the mirror. What a tragic sight. And my knee and eye weren’t looking too good either. What the hell was in that shampoo? Arsenic?

You have no idea how much I wish that story wasn’t true.

It was my good eye I hurt (my left eye is a bit crap; the right eye is Mr. Perfect). My left knee is the crap one. The one I hurt a long while ago. I’m still limping on it, and it’s not getting any better. But I hate doctors and hospitals, so I’ll whimper quietly in my sleep.

Did 2013 get any better in the days that followed? Well, I decided the next day to watch a movie I hadn’t seen before that I’d heard good things about. It was the network premier of a movie I knew little about. I’d heard there were a few laughs, so I was looking forward to not weeping for a few hours. The movie?

Up.

Now, I don’t know how many of you have seen Up, but without a shadow of a doubt, it has the most depressing, sad, tear-jerking, moving, heart-wrenching, painful, opening ten minutes to any movie ever made. And it carried on in this vein of thought periodically throughout the rest of the movie. The photo album scene is a good example of this.

I don’t think I’ve ever cried that hard over something fictional. It’s a brilliant piece of cinema, one of the best movies ever made. BUT IT’S NOT WHAT I WAS EXPECTING! Never again will I avoid a synopsis! It was only January 1 and I already had a broken knee, a broken eye and a broken heart.

Did anything good happen this week? No. Not at all. Would a hug really be so bad? You can argue that this is merely bad luck, and that life will get better. I disagree. I said, at the start of 2012, that it would be a comical-accident Mr. Bean-esque free year. Within five minutes, I had had a party-popper fired at my eye. That really happened. Bloody hurt.

And it was my left eye. What is fate playing at? Left eye 2012 and right eye 2013. I’m worried what fate is going for next year. He’ll probably go for another vital and precious organ. And then I’ll never lose my virginity.

Unless my first time is with a mime.

Happy new year, everyone! Stay safe washing your hair…

English poet, Alfred Austin (1835-1913) once said: “Tears are the summer showers to the soul”.

Peace Out :|:

(I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the little bubble on the top right if you are on the Archives Page. Feel free to check out my second and third blogs. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks)

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