The injury: a thorough embitchening at the hands of a grass field.
The story: For most elementary schoolers, Field Day is great. It's such an objectively awesome concept that nobody, myself included, can really find any fault with it. Rather than struggling to shove some learning into the sugar-addled minds of small children, teachers can just take them outside, make them play some games and maybe check up on them every now and then to ensure they're not killing one another. I myself was never talented enough to win any of the events that I partook in, but I sure had a lot of fun losing.
"Mommy look! I lost again!"
"We're all losers, honey."
So we were doing Field Day at my school, and my particular group of kids was at the 3-legged race station. The teacher there was pairing us up with our race partners, and much to my dismay, I was partnered with a kid that we'll refer to as Johnny Psychopath. To this day, Johnny Psychopath remains one of the most aggressively pissed off third graders I've ever met, and having him strapped to my leg for a competitive event was nothing short of terrifying.
After unwillingly having my leg attached to that bull of a child, we all lined up at the start line. While the teacher rattled off the rules of the game, Johnny Psychopath looked me dead in the eye and said "If we lose, I'm going to kill you."
Now, I shouldn't have to explain this, but a 3-legged race is kind of a group effort. One can't exactly expect to win without the help of the person attached to their leg, and it wouldn't do one any good to, say, punch their partner in the side of the head as soon as the race starts. Hopefully you understand that, my dear reader, because Johnny Psychopath sure as shit didn't. The instant the teacher said "Go," Johnny Psychopath decided that an excellent way to achieve victory would be to punch me in the side of the head and drag my ass across the field like a person tied to the back of a rampaging elephant. Surprisingly, his tactic worked, if only because everyone was so dumb-struck by the indecipherable workings of his mind that they couldn't help but stand there and wonder.
Man, do I love me some Spongebob.
After a moment or two of dead silence, punctured only by my panicked screams for help, the teacher grabbed Johnny Psychopath by the ear, and she beckoned to a nearby adult to take off our leg strap while the other kids commenced with the race. I laid there on the ground like an upturned turtle, covered in grass stains and unable to right myself, stuck on my shell while my exposed belly acted as a beacon for any hungry predator that might have passed my way. While they feasted on my turtle-y insides, I would crane my head and gaze at the sky one last time, cursing the cruel, unloving god that would let such a terrible fate befall as beautiful and majestic a creature as a turtle.
I never was very good at similes.
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