It was Halloween. I was dressed as The Wicked Witch of the East – you know, the one the house fell on or something. (NB: the only reason I was the assed-out, dead witch instead of the pretty, fun one is because I had the ruby red slippers but nothing else.) Anyway, we went out to a packed bar, I was macking it to all sorts of characters, and then, on my way down a flight of stairs and in full view of the entire establishment, my feet slipped out from under me. I proceeded to hit every stair on my ass in what felt like slow motion until I finally reached the floor. Let me tell you, if a house could’ve fallen on me right then, I would’ve taken the option and said sayonara, world.
Sharp Teeth, Sharper Tongue.