I stabbed a man. Stabbed him straight between his knuckles. We were fooling around, you know. I jabbed at him with the knife jokingly, and he returned the favor by jabbing at me with his lighter. Then came the fateful jab that we shared; of course, a sharp blade is much more fast-acting than a flame, and I heard it tear through his flesh.
The first thing I said was "Oh my God; sorry!" followed by "Are you okay?" But you know, I wasn't really concerned about him. I didn't honestly care if he was okay. I was willing to accept that I had cut an artery in his hand and that he'd bleed to death.
The reason I had the immediate impulse to act surprised, apologetic, and concerned was to cover myself. It is just my nature, and probably the nature of most human beings to instantly think of one's own well-being before thinking of another's, no matter how quickly it takes to switch between modes. I didn't want to be blamed. I recognized from the start that although we both were being asses to the same degree, I'd take more of the blame just because luck was with me. Had any of the fuel that was splattered all around the campsite from starting a fire been on my sleeve, I would have gone up in flames and he would have been to blame for igniting me.
Blame and shame are closely related. It's rightly so that they rhyme.
Very very itneresting indeed!!!! » CPKviperpheonix
on 2005-08-07 12:36:08
Blame and shame. Hmm. » juiCyy
on 2005-08-07 03:31:35 hmm
is that a true story? is the guy okay? =o I » Manda103
on 2005-08-24 10:35:52
Yes, it's a true story. He's fine. It was a very small stab and didn't even bleed much. » Bartholomew
on 2005-09-09 10:05:33
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