Dazed and Confused.

May 17, 2010
By , Overgaard, AZ
On a casual Saturday morning, expecting to wake up reasonably late, I woke abruptly. I didn’t know why, but I had a bad feeling about this particular Saturday. I had already had chores that I had to do, assigned by my dad. Just a hint of them were to cut the grass, clean the pool, and shave the dog. If I did this right, I would get paid.

I start to wake up more, and get dressed and get ready to do these chores. I lag my body outside into the blazing hot heat debating with my conscious if I should go back inside. I think about it for a minute and decide that it’s well worth 20 dollars to withstand a little heat here and there.

I start to cut the grass, way worse than I had imagined. The grass is getting all over my legs while I’m cutting it and to make it worse, I’m allergic to grass. I think to myself, “Can this day get possibly any worse?” And of course, I should have knocked on wood.

Ants start crawling all over my legs and I scream and jump in the pool, amazing isn’t it? Then I start to clean the pool. The pool wasn’t that bad considering it was colder and not ant- infested. Now, I start to think I can get through this.

Then, here comes the fun, shaving the dog. My dog is crazy, and hates to be held down. Therefore, this makes it extremely hard to do anything with her. After spending about an hour chasing her around my acre lot, I finally get her and get the chance to shave her. After about 20 minutes, she starts to get restless and run around again. This time, I just give up.

When I go back inside, my dad asks me to fix the sprinkler that shoots out water out of the water fall. I get up, severely aggravated. I get on top of the water fall seeing what is wrong. I feel my dog behind me standing on the water fall with me. I blow it off as nothing, and start to look at the sprinkler again.

Before I know it, my dog decides to jump on my back. Here’s the problem with that, I have a giant cactus behind my water fall. I fly face forward into the cactus. At first, I don’t really feel anything. After about a minute, this is where I will need the Ibuprofen. I start to cry as I feel the sharp hook needles dig into every single aspect of my skin. I call for my dad and as soon I do I hear his voice asking himself how he intended getting me out of there.

I lay still there for about five minutes until my dad says to just stand up. I do, with agony. I say that I can’t, but I have to realize there was no other way. So I gradually stand up, hoping not to feel anymore pain. I got up, still with tears running down my cheekbones.

The pain was all over. Except for pulling all the little hooks out, and the needles were everywhere…EVERYWHERE.





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