I got dragged in to ER last night to see an acute stroke. In the next room there was a 16 year old guy wailing and screaming uncontrollably.
He'd taken the family car without permission. Wrecked it. Knocked over a traffic light, broken both legs. And (of course) didn't have a license.
He was fine and quiet with all this until he found out his mom was coming to the hospital. And then he REALLY freaked out. Not over the wreck... but because she'd see that he'd gotten a tattoo on his chest.
"Oh my God! She's going to kill me! She hates tattoos! Please! Somebody, give me a gown, a shirt, a towel, anything, please, I gotta cover this! Please! Why did you guys have to cut my shirt off? This is going to get me in such deep shit. Somebody! A blanket! Or even a big band-aid! Or something, anything, to put over it."
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