At first glance one wouldn't think there was much of a threat from this delicious little treat...
but if you live with a Ninja, like I do, this is as deadly piece of weaponry as I have ever been inflicted upon. My Sunday started wonderfully but ended with a trip to the emergency room and 57 stitches...ok, I grotesquely exaggerate my injuries. But it felt like I needed 57 stitches, and a chocolate dipped ice cream cone to make my pain go away.
This unfortunate incident did not, I repeat, did not start because I threw a couple chocolate coins at my husband. This was an unprovoked attack on a innocent person.
That being said I would like to relate my side of the story:
I was walking through the house, minding my own business, reading my scriptures, singing hymns and thinking about what a good person I was. When all of a sudden a black figure leaped out of the shadows of the bathroom. His face was covered and his whole body was clad in skin tight shimmery black spandex. His outfit was completed with a manly purple sash tied smartly around his waist. I would have stopped to admire the whole outfit if I didn't see the flash of gold coins in his hands. Instinct seemed to grip my mind and body as like lightening I sprinted around the corner to dive under the protection of a blanket (not the nakey blankey). As quick as my reflexes were, they were no match for the shimmery ninja who had honed his skills to pure perfection. For in my dive under the blanket, my pants slipped down leaving a 1 x 2 inch gap of bare skin. One moment I was starting to congratulate myself on my cat like reflexes, the next I was lying on the living room floor trying to find something to stop the bleeding.
Yes, my friends, it's true. That shimmery ninja threw the chocolate coin at me ninja star style which miraculously/skillfully/luckily hit that small patch of bare skin. The result of which left a (very un-lady like) red chocolate coin mark on my sensitive left bum cheekie.
And so, as I sit at my desk at work, I have to lean forward so I don't put too much pressure on my stitches. I try not to grimace in pain or draw attention to myself because us cowgirls are suppose to be tough. No stinking spandex ninja is going to get this cowgirl down.
Shimmery Ninja, if you're reading this blog:
Tender Tushie Haley
PS: You owe me a chocolate dipped ice cream cone!
PSS: I want my shimmery spandex back, weirdo.