A Score to Settle

A brief description of the thought processes that went through my mind in the first 48 hours or so after having my jaw broken by a sucker punching goof. I in no way advocate violence. This is history.

Getting your jaw broken by some sucker punching goof isn’t so bad. It barely hurts at all. A couple extra strength Tylenol the next day, the pain is manageable. Having your teeth floating around in your mouth is dreadfully annoying, but the pain is really not that bad at all. Going hunting for the guy who broke your jaw at 7AM the next morning is exhilarating. Knowing that if you find him, that he’s going to get destroyed by baseball bats and a big-a*s pipe-wrench, the anticipation of vengeance, so satisfying. The ER is no fun. Waiting is unbearable, when I’ve got people out looking. Angry people who will fix this thing. I wish I was there with them. I want to hear the crunch when he gets his skull cracked. Refusing to answer questions so that the cops don’t get called in to investigate. If he gets charged and goes to jail, he won’t be out on the street and I won’t get payback. Waking up from surgery, what’s the word I’m looking for? F**k! Holy F**k! This is the most pain I’ve ever been in. What’s that? Morphine? Give it here and make it quick. More morphine. I need more morphine. Who’d have thought that steel plates holding your face together would hurt so much? It’s okay though. I’ve got people, and they’re out looking.