This has nothing to do with the comic. But it's a funny little story related to my hand injury that just popped into my head that I thought you would enjoy.
This took place last Thursday, the day after my visit to the ER. I wasn't doing much of anything that day except sitting around with an ice pack on my hand, admonishing myself, going "Owie, owie, owie, you stupid muther..."
At some point in the afternoon, there was a knock on my door. I went upstairs to see who it was and it was a solicitor.
A clean-shaven middle-aged man with a handful of pictures informed me that he was going door-to-door asking home owners if they would appreciate his business painting their house numbers on the curb in front of their homes.
"Perhaps you're familiar with our work," he asked, as he flashed a series of photographs in front of me. Most of the photographs were of plain house numbers. But some of them were also adorned with the logos of popular sports teams. A Chicago Cubs logo here, a Kansas City Chiefs logo there.
"No, I'm afraid I'm not familiar with your work," I said.
"You know, the real reason you want to get your numbers painted on the curb," the man said as he continued his pitch, "is because they're much more visible to emergency vehicles. These emergency vehicles can't see the house numbers when they're so far away from the street."
"That's funny," I said, holding up my bandaged left hand, "because we actually had a little situation here yesterday that required a visit from an emergency vehicle and they seemed to find the house just fine!"
"Uh? Oh! Oh my," the man stuttered.
"I'm not trying to give you a hard time," I said. "I understand what you're doing. But I don't think we'll be in need of your services."
We wished each other well and the man went on his way.