The Harbinger Online

Maxx’s Musings Chapter Three: Lamb’s Luck

My family, the Lambs, are inherently lucky. It’s in our blood. We tend to have fantastic luck in some areas, and a complete lack thereof in others. For example, Lambs have a tendency to be very good at cheating death and avoiding severe injuries.

I should be dead. Way dead. The number of times I should have broken bones or been severely maimed… I stopped counting after it got into the double digits.
On a daily basis, I slip off steps, trip, and roll my ankle. I have yet to sprain or break an ankle.

More than once during wrestling practices, I rolled my ankle whilst sprinting around the wrestling room for conditioning. I parried it, and continued. I only know that this is out of the ordinary due to the fact that my teammate did the exact same thing, and broke his ankle. He never wrestled again.

I’ve never sprained an ankle or dislocated anything that I could put back in place. This is due to the fact that I’m very double-jointed.

Most people are disgusted by my everyday stretches: when I pull my arms around my head from behind my back, stretch my quad and have my foot parallel with my back, or when I pop my shoulder or elbows out of place. (Blog on this coming soon!)

The luck I have only applies to life and death situations and not being injured; I have no luck whatsoever in any other situations, as I’ll detail momentarily.
I’ve always been called clumsy.

I disagree.

I am reckless. I am the personification of the stereotype of teenagers thinking that they’re invincible;  however, I know I am not. I simply have a feeling that I won’t die. I follow my gut. My gut says I ain’t gonna die quite yet.

When I have the gut feeling that I won’t die when I’m about to do something stupid and reckless, I’d like to think that it’s because I have something more I must do in life. I’d like to think that we all have a purpose in life, and that we are obligated to fulfill that, but we can betray it. It’s not particularly easy to do so….. On a coming issue of Maxx’s Musings I’ll detail my philosophy!

Cuts and scrapes are nothing out of the ordinary for me, but none of them are too serious. I deal with injuries both big and small; it’s part of my daily life. When I get injured, I deal with it. Like a man. As I’ve said before, I have no patience for weaklings.

I fancy myself a “tough guy”. I’m not exactly what you’d call a delicate flower. I take pride in my strength, toughness, determination and the callouses on my hands. If I do something to get a deep cut of any kind, my initial response is to clean with rubbing alcohol.

The only other thing to use would’ve been super glue if I’d had any at the time. It’s gotten me through some tough times; I sliced my knuckle open on a nail in my basement, and it’d stopped bleeding, but it was still wide open. It was nasty, so I put super glue in it, and it flaked out on its own as it healed. Super glue, duct tape, cauterizing, gummis, steel toed boots, and swords officially fix everything. (Stay tuned for a blog about this too!)

Roughness is a routine part of my life. In fact, just last night, I was making a pulley system for an american flag and I’ve got scrapes, callouses and cuts about my arms from that.

I had to climb the tree, using my forearms for friction on the bark because that’s the only safe way to climb, plus I had my hands “tied up” with rope and a flag.

After I climbed to the branch I wanted to hang the flag from, since there was a thorny vine atop the branch, I had to hang upside down, using the friction of my calves on the bark, and tie the knots in three different places.

I tied the flag to the branch, dropped it, hoping for it to unfold in some majestic way, but no. It tied itself into a knot, and I had to climb further out onto the branch to untie the flag, and as I slid upside down, I felt a piercing pain in my calf, so I quickly undid the knotted mess of a flag, and came down vie the rope I just tied. I got down and walked about a bit, but then I itched my calf and found four thorns in it. By the end of the ordeal, boy oh boy was my face red.

After plucking out the thorns, as per usual, I put some rubbing alcohol on it because I couldn’t find the peroxide, and WOOH it made me feel alive, but just then, I got a call saying they didn’t need the flag anymore. This…this is the fate of Lamb’s and their luck. But it’s all good! It was a jolly good time!

Stay tuned for next time! Passive voice’s lack of strength as a syntax will be talked about!  

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