just stick to the script
oh ... and on the topic of brain damage ... this happened a week ago:
In recognition of National Poetry Month, the TotRodder and I were reading some excerpts from that chestnut of childish limericks, Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends. There's a poem in there involving a guy who gets a railroad spike driven through his head, and there's the requisite humorous illustration of our narrator with a spike poking out of both ears, and the TotRodder looked up at me and asked, "how can that happen?"
"well, you see there's this space ..." and, really, as I soon as I found myself saying that, the angel over my shoulder was going, "WAIT!WAIT! WTF! Dude, remember? 8 years olds? as impressionable as a rubber stamp? where are you going with this?"
but it was already too late for that.
"... so you see, there's this space in your head, in the back of your mouth, above your jaw, that doesn't have anything vital in it. If you get a spike in there, you'll break some bone in your skull. But you'll be otherwise ok. But it's a really small space. And if you miss then it can be very bad."
"have you ever done that?"
"no. As I said, it's a really small space. You have to be really lucky if you don't want to hurt yourself. Like, really, really, really lucky."
"what happens if you're not?"
"Then you die. Or you could hit your brain and get amnesia. Or you might lose one of your senses. Like, you could go blind or you might lose your sense of taste."
"I'd like to lose my sense of taste."
"You'll miss it, dude."
"But, then I can eat all of this gross stuff that my mom wants me to eat."
"No, dude, seriously, you'll miss it when you get older. Your sense of taste changes when you grow up. It gets better. Trust me."
"Are you sure?"
"Perfectly. Until then, just hold your breath when you eat stuff. 90% of your taste comes from your sense of smell."
"I think you're fooling."
"Oh, sure, you believe me when I tell you that it's ok to drive a spike through your head, but I give you some practical advice and you turn into some skeptic."
"What's a skeptic?"
The TotRodder was sick for this week's reading. I kept myself from asking why.
In recognition of National Poetry Month, the TotRodder and I were reading some excerpts from that chestnut of childish limericks, Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends. There's a poem in there involving a guy who gets a railroad spike driven through his head, and there's the requisite humorous illustration of our narrator with a spike poking out of both ears, and the TotRodder looked up at me and asked, "how can that happen?"
"well, you see there's this space ..." and, really, as I soon as I found myself saying that, the angel over my shoulder was going, "WAIT!WAIT! WTF! Dude, remember? 8 years olds? as impressionable as a rubber stamp? where are you going with this?"
but it was already too late for that.
"... so you see, there's this space in your head, in the back of your mouth, above your jaw, that doesn't have anything vital in it. If you get a spike in there, you'll break some bone in your skull. But you'll be otherwise ok. But it's a really small space. And if you miss then it can be very bad."
"have you ever done that?"
"no. As I said, it's a really small space. You have to be really lucky if you don't want to hurt yourself. Like, really, really, really lucky."
"what happens if you're not?"
"Then you die. Or you could hit your brain and get amnesia. Or you might lose one of your senses. Like, you could go blind or you might lose your sense of taste."
"I'd like to lose my sense of taste."
"You'll miss it, dude."
"But, then I can eat all of this gross stuff that my mom wants me to eat."
"No, dude, seriously, you'll miss it when you get older. Your sense of taste changes when you grow up. It gets better. Trust me."
"Are you sure?"
"Perfectly. Until then, just hold your breath when you eat stuff. 90% of your taste comes from your sense of smell."
"I think you're fooling."
"Oh, sure, you believe me when I tell you that it's ok to drive a spike through your head, but I give you some practical advice and you turn into some skeptic."
"What's a skeptic?"
The TotRodder was sick for this week's reading. I kept myself from asking why.