A Not So Subtle Reminder By Joe Hakim

I don't know what I was thinking - it was probably some half-baked way to demonstrate my masculinity or something equally as stupid. I was drunk, of course, and for some reason it seemed like a good idea to pick up a pint glass and punch it. it shattered, and I dropped the bottom of half of it. I looked down at my hand, and I could see Blood. it seemed to glow in the neon bar lights. I made my way to the toilet. when I got there, I twisted the tap and held my hand under the cold flowing water, and pulled little shards of glass out of my knuckles. the worst cut was a gash in my middle finger. as the sink turned red, the door swung open and a bouncer walked in. he looked at me and I said something pathetic like: 'I did it playing football.' he didn't reply; he just placed his hand on my shoulder and steered me out of the toilet and towards the exit. he threw me out. by now, the Blood was pouring, and I held my hand at arm's length in an attempt to try and avoid getting Blood on my new shirt. on the way home, a few taxis slowed down, thinking I was flagging them, but then they saw the Blood and drove off. by some miracle, I made it home without being pulled up by the police. I fumbled with my keys and let myself in. my girlfriend arrived home ten minutes later with her friend. after we got the, 'what the fuck did you do that for?' out of the way, (answer: 'fuck knows.') her friend, a trainee nurse, looked at my hand and said: 'you should go to a hospital, you need stitches.' I replied: 'nah.' I waved off her suggestion, flicking Blood all over her face in the process. she left shortly after. I awoke to a crime scene \u2013 I was the prime suspect in my own assault. Blood was everywhere: on my clothes on the sheets on the floor on the walls on the doors on the curtains on the furniture on the toilet on the fridge on the cooker on the TV on the windows and when I went outside there was a trail of Blood all over the pavement. I could have re-traced my exact journey from the previous night, my own crimson thread in a labyrinth of my own creation. eventually, the stains faded and washed away, but thankfully I still have the scars on my knuckles to serve as a constant reminder of how much of a fucking idiot I can be.

Copyright © Joe Hakim 2009

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