"I'm sure she's dead!": a birthday story

I feel like I must have told this story before, but here we go again:

On my 27th birthday I was living in PA with my brother in his house. My parents were there on a visit from Mexico. My brother had gotten me one of the Lord of The Rings movies and it came with a light-up plastic "the one ring" necklace. I was wearing that necklace. All was right with the world. Until...

My brother has always been one to take almost any opportunity to beat me up. We're siblings; those are the rules. One of his favorite things is to put a leg behind my legs and then flip me backwards over his leg so that I flop onto the ground. He did this. The problem was that I was standing approximately five feet and six inches from the coffee table and I am just over five feet and seven inches tall. So.



So I'm on the floor after hitting the back of my head on the corner of the table and hearing a crack-crunch sound. I must have passed out for a second, and my eyes are closed. I hear my mom exclaim "I'M SURE SHE'S DEAD!"

And I wonder for just a teeny tiny moment if there's any way I could make this benefit me*, and I decide that would be cruel so I open my eyes.

My mother lets out a great sigh of relief and my brother looks sheepishly at me and says "sorry?".


Happy birthday bro. I hope that you have AT LEAST as much fun on your 37th birthday as I did on my 27th birthday!

*Come on it was my birthday and I'd just been bashed in the skull with a table. Indulge me.