I blame 'Aliens'
I was in the Scouts when I was a teenager. My parents had encouraged me to do it, probably hoping I'd pick up some useful skills, like being able to tie two bits of wood together or build a shelter in the wilderness, in case I was ever too fucking stupid to bring a tent.

It was actually a good laugh - messing around with your mates in a church hall on a Friday night, playing wonderfully violent games like British Bulldog ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Bulldogs_%28game%29 ) or Red Rover ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_Rover ). There would be occasional camping trips, which would usually turn into massive drinking sessions.

The troup also owned a hut in the forest, known as 'The Bothy.' One weekend, me and a few mates decide to book the Bothy for a camping trip. For 'camping trip', read 'debauched weekend of drink and drugs.' We took 6 crates of beer (24 cans in each), a bottle of whisky and a half ounce of dope. This was between five of us.

Unfortunately, it was the middle of October, and it rained most of the weekend, leaving us confined to the hut. We passed the time like normal teenagers - drinking can after can of beer, rolling joints and arguing about things like whether a metal suit of armour would be useful in a zombie invasion, or whether 'stick insect man' would make a good superhero.

We were sitting around the table drinking, talking shit, while Douglas tended the fire. Douglas was a proper Scout - he even had badges, for things like fire-making, cooking, first aid and woodmanship. The rest of us didn't give a fuck, but Douglas really seemed to get something out of Scouts. I wouldn't be at all surprised to find he's joined the army now.

Anyway, Douglas had left his swiss army knife on the table, and the conversation turned to the scene in 'Aliens' where Bishop, the android, starts doing the knife trick ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZqTWOgAJ3g ). I, being full of drink, bravado and the desire to impress my friends, boasted that it looked easy, and that I could do it no problem. Of course this was immediately challenged, so, in the interests of saving face I picked up the knife, flicked out the blade and splayed my hand on the table.

I started slowly, picking my way between my fingers with care. After I completed my first pass and back, I began to feel more confident. Gradually, I increased the tempo, to the sound of my mates clapping and egging me on. It built up faster and faster, and the adrenaline kicked through me. It felt amazing - I closed my eyes briefly to savour the feeling.

Big mistake - the knife came down slightly to the left, skewering the ring finger on my left hand just above the knuckle. The entire room froze - we all stared at the knife embedded in my finger, as the blood began to seep around the blade and onto the table. My mate Tom broke the silence with "That never happened in Aliens."

Luckily, Douglas had brought his first aid kit (the guy was scarily organised - the kind of guy who keeps a detailed diary and organises his sock drawer) and he soon had my finger bandaged up. The amount of booze I had consumed meant I didn't feel any pain, but it hurt like fuck in the morning. I've still got a slight scar, and I still feel like a fucking idiot when I think about it.

Remember kids - drink and knifes don't mix.

Here endeth the lesson



P.S I would apologise for length, but you've got to be used to it by now
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 2:58, 2 replies)

I know what you mean
/28
( Sir Pigeon Nipples Did you sit in some sugar?, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 3:38, closed)

You've got to hand it to...
...the chap who helpfully added "That never happened in Aliens".

Friends like that are useful, ain't they?
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Thu 27 Dec 2007, 16:09, closed)