My cousin’s tree sat rooted on the very tip of a precipice. One branch that was swinging precariously over the edge of the cliff had a rope tied to it in a fraying, messy, and complicated looking knot. Tied to that rope was a piece of wood, and sitting there, was me. Swinging from that tree was like flying. That feeling was all I cared about, at least in that moment. I would lean forward, and come rushing up to meet the sky, only to be whisked back again by the pliable branch that was holding me up. Back and forth, back and forth.
I was content to sit for hours on that rope, but then the most ominous sound came echoing down the canyon to where I was: a creeeeaaaaakkkkk, and then a SNAP! I looked up only find myself free falling, a branch tumbling down after me. It felt like hours, waiting, waiting, and dreading the moment when-
Splat. I hit the ground with an audible smack and lay for a second trying to collect myself. I slowly got to my feet, and dusted myself off. I did a quick inventory. Nothing seemed broken, or sprained, and I didn’t think I even had a mark from the 30-or-so foot drop!
But that’s when the reality of the situation hit me: I had to scale a cliff in order to get back to my cousin’s house.
How inconvenient!
With a sigh, I went over to the sheer rock wall and looked up into the blinding sun, barely making out the tree that I knew was at the top. This, I knew, would be a long climb.
Halfway through, as I was reaching for a handhold far to my left, I noticed that my elbow was bleeding. Upon further investigation, it wasn’t just a skinned elbow, this thing was gushing blood.
Ugh. Having a mutilated elbow while trying to scale a cliff was so bothersome!
However, I braved the rest of the climb, and, panting, finally grabbed a branch from the tree and dragged myself over the edge of the cliff and onto safe land. I inspected my elbow, which, by this point, had stained all my clothes red. It was looking absolutely awful, but nothing a band aid couldn’t fix.
I faced my cousin’s house and though for a while. (When I said “house” I was referring to the stupendously colossal mansion in front of me.) I knew that the battle wasn’t half over yet: if I wanted a band aid I had to get past Molly. She was the fiercest guard dog I knew, and she always slept right by the main entrance, the only entrance I knew how to open.
My options:
Option A: Try to sneak past Molly and get torn to shreds because I was, quite frankly, soaked in blood.
Option B: Try to find another door, which may or may not take the rest of my life because of the size of the “house.”
I really didn’t feel like walking for weeks on end, so option A it was. I crept forward and hid behind a tree, figuring that if I was quiet enough, I could sneak in and get a band aid, and I wouldn’t wake up Molly.
I peered around the trunk and stood stock still.
A big, dark nose
Sleek, pitch black hair.
Crazy green and brown eyes.
Panting breath.
Herculean muscles, made for crushing and killing.
Worst of all: breath smelling of a thousand rotting corpses.
What on earth was the gardens keeper doing here?!?!?
I shook myself from my terror as he motioned for me to follow him with his nasty, curly fingernails. With an eye still watching for Molly, we tiptoed forward for a couple miles to a secret entrance on the side of the building that I had never noticed before. He opened the door with a creak and started to turn away when I called out,
“What’s your name? I want to thank you.”
“Phil Thee.” Came the rasping reply.
I chuckled to myself as he left. What a fitting name for the creepy, yet helpful gardener. My snickering echoed in the darkness, reminding me of my mission: Operation Band Aid.
I cleaned all of the blood off of me so that I could commence my epic search for band aids. 6 floors, 26 miles, 159 bathrooms, 1,956 cabinets, 2 slips on the stairs and one cockroach later, I found what I was looking for:
A beautiful, merciful box of bandaids!!!! I opened the package, and attempted to put one on, but couldn’t. My cousins were having their weekly mirror washings, and so no one was at home and none of the mirrors were in the house. That led me to my predicament: I obviously couldn’t put on a bandaid, because I couldn’t see what I was doing!
Just my luck.
So, I decided to set out on a quest of finding an electronic machine that could perfectly attach band aids to elbows.
I went to the nearest Target, but they were fresh out! I asked the manager about this terrible oversight, but he gave me a blank stare, shook his head, and went off muttering about drugs and their affect on teenagers.
I tried Best Buy next, and their customer service was much better. The president of the company himself guided me through the store to find the band aid machine that was right for me. I walked back to my cousin’s house with the machine in hand, set it up, and plugged it in, but by that time my elbow had stopped bleeding and had mostly healed itself.
I was a bit bummed out that I didn't get to try my new machine, but I had bigger things to worry about. By this point in my day, I was ravenous. I wanted toast, so I set out for the kitchen. Thanks to my band aid hunt, I knew exactly where it was, and I arrived there in only 40 minutes, a record I’m sure.
When I got to the 1,000 square foot kitchen, I couldn't find the bread for the life of me! When I did finally find it, I had to toast it, and the toaster wasn’t working, so I had to start a fire to toast the bread manually. However, I couldn't find the matches to start the fire, and so I had to get Phil Thee to help me and get a fire started using lightening. But, once we did that, my cousins came home and brought all the mirrors with them, and Molly smelled the toast, and wreaked havoc on the house trying to get to us to eat the toast, and in the process shattered all my cousin’s mirrors, but, that is a story for a different time.
1 hour later.....
“Tirzah?”
“What Aunt Kathy?”
“Why is the swing broken? And why is there a gigantic machine in my bedroom of all places?”
“Oh yeah, sorry about that, I didn’t know where to put it...”
“And WHY on EARTH does the kitchen smell like smoke?”
“I can explain, I think...”
“The mirrors are broken and Molly is missing! What did you do while we were gone? Young lady, you are in so much trouble!”
“Aunt Kathy, please calm down. Let me just tell you a story, a true story, about a machine, some toast, and a band aid ...”
