My right arm has been in a cast for 5 weeks. For the last 3, Jr. has been saying, "When are you going to quit whining about what you can't do"?
Hey, I don't care if you call it 'karma,' getting your 'come-up-on's,' or the result of not abiding by 'The Golden Rule.' I believe it'll catch up with you; yesterday was Jr.'s day. He put his right elbow through glass.
We get to the ER and the receptionist asks how it happend. I wink so she know's I'm kidding. "He's been ticking me off about my arm, so I cut him."
He's going to be OK, but he's bandaged wrist to armpit. Don't you like, if it's going to happen, to have it have some 'poetic justice?'
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