Guarasci Land...

The following is a true story. Only the thumbs have been changed to protect the innocent.


As the clock struck 12:00, the blade also struck. The knife's attention was not on time, but instead, it focused on the large firm onion on the white cutting board. It sliced through it like warm butter, only it did not strike the onion solely. It claimed something else in its path of destruction. My thumb did not start bleeding at first; it stared back at me in an almost taunting manner. Nyah, nyah, nuh-nyah nyah. I breathed a sigh of relief. Was I mistaken? Did the blade narrowly miss my second favorite thumb? I re-examined the tip and a sense of shock warmed over me as I noticed that a small portion of it was missing. Where could it be? Looking down at the chopping block, I noticed something that did not quite appear to be an onion. Could that be it? Is that the tip of my thumb lying there? I looked back at my thumb and the taunting ceased. Crimson droplets now dampened the once white onion dices and the matching plastic cutting board. Greeted now by a slow trickle of several tiny red dots from the wound, they slowly became larger, until replaced by a steady gushing of a thick red stream. The cutting board looked as if a layer of slick blackish-red oil smeared the top of it, similar to designs one would find in an art gallery. While admiring this "modern art" something else happened. The pain came. Pulsating to the heavy beat of a slow rock song, my thumb begged for a sense of soothing. I turned on the cold water and let the cool water run over the fresh gaping wound. Yow! The sting from the water took me back to those lost days of skinned knees and Bactine. It still hurt just as much as I remembered. I took a paper towel and wrapped it around my thumb. Bounty (the quicker picker-upper) was no match for the wound as it soaked right through its porous paper. A few paper towels later, I decided that my home remedy was not going to work. I needed to take a trip to the Emergency Room to have a professional tend to the wound. I grabbed my car keys with my one good hand while elevating the wounded one over my head. Before shutting the door, I took a quick glance at the clock.

The time… 12:01.