A dumb small July story. I haven't thought about this in years.

So, as a child, I was way more free roam than I really should have been by any rights from about four years old on.

At around 4~ my personal range was the Texas side of the town my maternal grandparents lived in when we stayed with them.

partially because that was pretty sizable as it was and honestly the New Mexico side is pretty fucking rough even now, and even at four I wasn't that stupid. (for being the nerd child I have always had more street sense than actually granted/acknowledged)

Anyways. this was probably around when I was six? Six or so.

I am roaming around the neighborhood, and some of the other kids are also out in the streets.

An important context: Anthony, New Mexico at the time was probably like, 95% hispanic population. My half white butt wasn't really welcome or wanted by the adults because they weren't happy my mom married 'out'. So I didn't really have much in the way of friends for interacting with when we lived there.

Most of us are poor as dirt, since it was a pretty poor town, and these are grade schoolers. So not really rich in things like soccer balls outside of the occasional worn ratty ass thing passed down from someone's primo or a crappy Wal-Mart ball that died pretty fast.

What happens is entirely my fault.

An empty can is found.

You know what's a thing? kick the can.

Very, very viable as a game when you are lacking a ball, have a few people, and a mostly empty street (and or are good at dodging cars).

So, this goes on for a decent amount of time kicking the can around. It was a decently large one, like those family size soup or bean cans.

...Still had the lid on, which had no doubt been opened by a really crappy can opener since it was jagged to shit. (This is Important.)

And then.

My dumb ass.

Attempted to on a good pass.

Dribble the can up to juggle it on my knees.

And this is how I lost a giant patch of skin on my left knee to a game of kick the can.

Naturally, it starts bleeding pretty badly.

It didn't take very long for everyone to notice and decide to get the fuck out of there because no body wanted to get in trouble playing with the gringa their parents don't want them playing with/get accused of anything.

So I had to limp the two blocks back to my grandparents' with one hand clamped to my knee to staunch the bleeding and then cleaned the knee up, disinfected it and bandaided it up and everything.

Because to get help would have been to admit I made that stupid a life decision.

And that is the story of the very last time I played kick the can.

seemarierun Because you might get a kick out of this brand of stupidity.

No super good with blood but I can appreciate the stubbornness

Oof. Sorry.