In grade four a kid in my class stabbed me in the arm with a pencil. A piece of the carbon got stuck in there. It didn't really cause any problems, though. I didn't get sick or infected or anything. There was just this tiny black scar there. I liked it. I liked having a chunk of pencil stuck in me. It seemed important.
One night last week I was trying to find it again, but it's not where I remember it being and I can't find it again.
Oh, wait, I just found it. (No joke. I'm not trying to be coy or anything here. I literally just found it again.)
Crisis averted?
The moral of the story is that there's some pencil in my arm and I thought it was gone but it's still there and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
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1 comments:
I have exactly the same story, except I stabbed myself. I was drawing on a road trip (because that is what I do on road trips) with a mechanical pencil and I was trying to push really hard on the back end, where the eraser is. THe lead inside was stuck or something, so I pushed really hard, until a bump in the road made my palm on the back of the pencil, shove the tip of the pencil into my sketch book and, thus, a straight stick of graphite stabbed its way through the eraser at the end into my palm. less than one millimeter in length of .7mm graphite stick was shoved into the center, bottom of my palm and is still there now. I just checked to see if it was there. It is. I always thought that it would continue its descent down towards the other side of my hand and come out, but it just went one or two millimeters down and stayed. I was between 12 and 14 for sures.
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