THE BIG SLIVER

"Ouch!" I screeched.

"That hurt!" I bawled.

That was two weeks before 6th grade started. We were at the "the mud hole," which was on the Priest River. The train bridge was a stone's-throw away.

One day, I was on the bridge, running down the wooden sidewalk, which went along the tacks.

Then a very long and wide sliver jammed up my foot!! The sliver was HUGE!!!

"Ouch!" I screamed again and again as blood was dripping out of the wound.

After I hopped off the bridge on one foot, I tried to get the sliver out. It about killed me off when I dug and poked at it.

But I couldn't get it out!!!

It was very important that I pull the sliver out, and not  Dad. He is merciless when it comes to removing slivers!

"I guess I have no choice but to lie!" I concluded.
                                               
My story was that I had stepped on a nail. And that in Boy Scouts, we had been learning to treat a nail wound.

I begged my parents to let me work on it all by myself. That way, I could get full credit.

They readily agreed, glad to see me showing some maturity.

Over the next several days, I kept trying in vain to pull the sliver out. I used tweezers and everything I could think of.

I was successful in chipping off some pieces of the sliver, but soon I couldn't even see it. The sliver was now deeper into my foot.  I squeezed my foot to try to push the sliver up and out. It didn't work.

"George," Mom and Dad said. "It seems to be getting worse and it's been over a week."

"My scoutmaster told us that a bad puncture will get worse before it gets better and that it may take a long time." I said. "It's taking longer than I expected, but please be patient, okay?"

This went on until a few days before school started. It was getting more painful!!

Then, I had a great idea!

Every night, I decided to soak my foot for several hours in really hot water and Epsom salts.

It paid off after a couple of days.  It didn't hurt nearly as bad, because it was so numb.

"George, school is starting tomorrow and you will need to use these crutches." Mom said. "I insist."

Mom dropped me off at the school the school the next morning. As I entered my classroom, everyone started asking about my accident.

"What did you do to your foot, George?" The teacher. Mr. Harold, asked.

"Oh, I stepped on a nail." I answered..

"Wow, those are pretty cool crutches!!" The boys yelled, pretty much the same time as each other.

"Okay, students, will everyone sit at your assigned places?" Our teacher asked, sternly.

Mr. Harold was a great person and we really loved him, but he was an odd duck. He was a whino and he was either drunk or had a really bad hangover. You could always smell liquor on his breath. He couldn't walk straight and he had slurred speech.

He carried a thick drumstick to hit students on the head, shoulders, and back to ensure obedience. But he used it mainly to be funny, because he knew that sometimes a little humor could go a long way.

Mr. Harold would come running, and hit you with the drumstick, if he caught you doing something wrong. Then we would just laugh at him, and he would hit the next person he could catch. We pushed his buttons relentlessly to watch something so funny.

On the second day back, my foot was swollen more than ever! And it was feeling very weird!!

"Hey everyone, come quick!" I yelled. The boys all ran to form a circle around me.

I pulled my sock off and said: "WATCH THIS!!!!"

Gobs of puss and blood started pouring out of my foot, along with my HUGE SLIVER!!

"Cool!!" The boys yelled. "This is so awesome! What is that stuff, Anderton?!"

"Boys!" Mr. Harold yelled. "Be quiet and return to your seats, right now!"

"You are so rad, George!" Mike exclaimed, about to burst.

"Where did you learn that trick?" Asked Shawn, like a complete moron.

"Gross!" The girls screamed.

"I think I'm going to puke!" Said Suzie, as she started to dry-heave.

"I said to get to your seats, boys!!" Mr. Harold said as he started hitting boys with his drum stick.

"Mr. Harold, make George stop it!" The girls begged as they ran further away. "It's not funny!!"

The boys loved to see the girls squeal!

Mr. Harold ran over and he hit me on the head so hard that I almost saw stars.

"What a great day!!" I thought for many years. "So many funny things happened!!"

The sliver was gone forever!!!


I still have the scar to prove it!!