Lemmie 'splain. I was taking down Christmas lights. Scruffy said he'd be glad to come over. He specifically mentioned, "If nothing else, I can help make sure Jeff doesn't get hurt."
He has so much confidence in me.
So, Scruffy showed up. "Pull those lights out of that hedge," I instructed. I turned my back for a moment.
There was a violent meaty "THUD!THUD!", followed by a squeal and couple of hollow "FUMP! FUMP!" noises. The first set of noises were Scruffy's knees. The last were his head, dribbling like a basketball on the front of my car.
When I turned around he was laying in a crumpled heap with his face pressed up against my car's headlight. Less than a minute into the project and I had managed to critically injure my sworn protector. Nice. I finished taking down the lights while my wife took Scruffy inside and wrapped his knees in ice.
Scruffy is recovering nicely, thankfully. He's also speaking to me, which makes me think he hit his head hard enough that he doesn't remember.
Which means I can get away with this again next year.
Score!
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