I have been recuperating this past week.
I was on my way to the mall for a little jogging and girl watching, actually very little jogging and a lot of girl watching.
I was on my way to the mall for a little jogging and girl watching, actually very little jogging and a lot of girl watching.
I was coming out of the shade of the parking garage into the glare of the sunlight. I could not see well for the glare. I heard a banshee scream right behind me. A high pitched woman's voice called out “George” and a string of curses accusing George of being putrefied, the child of unwed parents, and an indulger in various vulgar, depraved and physically impossible sexual activities. I am not George, but I turned to see what the yelling was about.
While turning I saw small ax swinging my way, seemingly in slow motion. It was a woman with uncombed hair, looking like she hadn't bathed in a very long time. I could not move I was so astonished. All I could do was watch as it swung toward me. I felt it cut into my neck. I remember thinking that I am dead, that this first blow would cut jugular vein and I there is no way I was going to survive that, let alone the next one. I fell taking the ax with me. I could see her crazed eyes open in surprise. “You're not George.” she said. She turned and ran. I don't remember a lot after that. Security guards, a trip to the hospital and a lot of people poking and prodding. It seems that by turning I may have foiled a stroke at the jugular and ending up with a slice in the neck. A number of stitches, a whole lot of forms filled out for police and doctors and I was sent home.
While turning I saw small ax swinging my way, seemingly in slow motion. It was a woman with uncombed hair, looking like she hadn't bathed in a very long time. I could not move I was so astonished. All I could do was watch as it swung toward me. I felt it cut into my neck. I remember thinking that I am dead, that this first blow would cut jugular vein and I there is no way I was going to survive that, let alone the next one. I fell taking the ax with me. I could see her crazed eyes open in surprise. “You're not George.” she said. She turned and ran. I don't remember a lot after that. Security guards, a trip to the hospital and a lot of people poking and prodding. It seems that by turning I may have foiled a stroke at the jugular and ending up with a slice in the neck. A number of stitches, a whole lot of forms filled out for police and doctors and I was sent home.
I am going to have a souvenir for a while. No one seems to have any idea who the woman was. I am wondering who George. I am very glad I am not him. I don't think I want to add either one of them to my friends list.
