Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be answered. In the comments, you can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.
This week's topic: What's is the story of your best scar?
Pam's Story: I have so many nicks and holes in me that I pretty much look like a cheese grater. I've had two pretty serious surgeries before I even hit 30--one to remove my gall bladder, the other to fix my stupid knee. However, my most unique scar would probably have to be this long, dark scratch I have on my right forearm.
For some reason, whenever Quita and I attempt to share a dog as a pet, we get a spawn from Satan. One of them was an adorable Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named Skip. He kind of looked like this:
But he acted more like this:
Anyways, as I was fighting to get him in his crate after he chewed on the coffee table/pooped on the carpet/bit my ankle/all of the above, he did some kind of fancy maneuver that resulted in me scraping my arm against something sharp and pointy on the top. So I pretty much had a long claw mark from my wrist to my elbow. Pretty gross. But it's like he sensed he hurt me, because then he calmly entered the crate and laid down. I don't think I'll ever have a pet again.
Quita's Story: Funny that Pam had the knee surgery since I'm always banging mines up. When I was little, I was running like the wind (but not because I dined and dashed...this time), only to turn around and bang my forehead on a piece of wood sticking out from the bed of a truck. I fell to the ground and scraped my knee pretty badly.
Oh, and just a few weeks ago, I was taking out the trash on the way to work. Thing is, I have to wear nice shoes to work--code word for uncomfortable. I ended up taking a tumble down the stairs and the trash went flying. Once again, I skinned my knee until the "pink meat" showed. Yuck.
What about you, peeps? Any nasty scar stories?