I have told many people that I broke my toe carrying laundry. No one believes me. Ok already, I'll tell the true tale.
Three weeks ago this past Saturday, around 10pm, my boyfriend backed his truck up to the back of the mobile home. He took the window out, tossed the couch through the window into the bed of the truck, grabbed the TV remote and sat on the couch cause he wanted to do a drive in movie. Unfortunately for me, the fumes from the truck came in and got me good as I was passed out on the floor of the living room after slugging down some primo box wine and smok'n some major kick ass weed.
The idiot had put the dog in the cab of the truck, and at some point in the evening, Ugly jumped onto the gearshift, putting the truck in neutral and causing it to roll down the hill taking the back end of the mobile home with it.
The shock of refreshing air hit me and I jumped up and ran to where I expected the couch to be and fell out of the end of the house landing in an old raccoon nest...well not so old as the raccoon was pretty pissed. I did look up in time to see the end of the mobile home bounce once in the air and then tumble over the side into the gully. That was a sight you don't see every day, I tell ya.
Luck was with me and I still had my cigarettes in my breast pocket. I lit one up to ponder my situation but unfortunately, the house blew up around me.
Later, as I smoked my cigarette and drank some liquid courage in the back of the police car, the medic told me I was lucky. All I came away from the experience was a broken toe, some singed hair, and one heck of a hangover.
Ugly did get out of the truck before it went over into the gully. He found me smoldering in the ruins of my house. Somehow the fridge ended up laying next to me and Ugly fetched me a bru just like the boyfriend taught him to do.
My boyfriend was found in the gully, lying on the couch with the TV changer still in his hand. Seems he slept through the whole thing. He sure is a keeper, that one.