The Apartment Drama: There Will Be Blood

It was a Friday night.  I was out of the apartment.  Whatever I was doing at the time was not nearly as interesting as the story you are about to hear.  Remember, this series has always been about Gene.

I’m sitting around somewhere and my phone goes off.  The following conversation ensues in text messages.  It was short, so I can show you the whole thing.  I’m a big fan of getting to the point in these sorts of situations.  Suffice it to say, I was brief.

I admit it.  I went over to visit my folks.  We made a trifle and it was delicious!  This really detracts from the main story though.  Let’s get back to it.

First of all, the amount of short hand he uses is ridiculous.  Second of all.  If it’s no big deal, why is he texting me about it and then telling me not to worry?  Also, Band Aid is two words.  However, I decide to honour his wish about not worrying and I return home about 45 minutes later.

I return to my home with band aids as requested, stuffing them into the medicine cabinet.   Moving back to the living room I ask.  “What have you been doing for the last 45 minutes?”

“Bleeding.”  Gene said in a matter of fact way.  “All over the floor and everywhere, but it was fine because I had paper towel.”

If it was actually as bad as Gene described, no amount of band aids and paper towel would be able to help him.

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