Life is rough sometimes. Especially when you shoot yourself in the foot.
Literally.
I often have to fight the urge and bite my tongue.
If you posses any kind of weapon, be it a gun, shouldn't it come with a requirement for a common sense license? One must know what the trigger would do if you pull it. Yes, it will go off and the bullet inside of your 9mm hand gun will then burst out of the barrel and into whatever solid object it strikes. That's the way kinetics works! You sure are lucky, sir. That it was your foot in the way and not say, your face.
And don't call 9-1-1 screaming at me to "hurry up." First, I am not the one coming to save you, oh damsel in distress. Second, just because your foot is throbbing doesn't mean I can press the "easy" button to turn on the turbo speed to the ambulance who is on its way (which, by the way, was coming since about 20 seconds since you dialed our 3-digit number).
And don't think I can't understand any Spanish, sir. Cussing yourself out doesn't make the pain any better.
And please stop yelling in my ear. That does no good either as I can't really understand your hollering, whining little weasel voice you imitate.
Sunday's are meant for laziness and church. Not playing with guns and cursing in Spanish. Didn't your mother teach you any better? Maybe he didn't have a mom.
Either way, his finger pulling trick was still smarter than the gentleman who recently experimented with sticking a couple of gerbils up his rear end just for the heck of it.
"Did you just say gerbils?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
Long pause.
(instructions for caller)
"ok sir, please put away any family pets. Gather up your medications, unlock your door, turn your outside lights on"
I coulda swore he had already put up his family pets.

**side note**
I swear on behalf of everything I believe in that I only post stories that are true in nature. Anonymous, but true.