That One Time I Almost Killed a Guy

When I was a young child, before I even attended school, I would go over to my friends house for the day, so that my mother could go to work and not have to leave me home or anything. My friend Ethan and I would play outside for hours, exploring the woods around his house, playing with a soccer ball, biking, climbing trees, the works. We had all sorts of fun as kids… Most of the time.

When we both were around 4-5 years old, one nice sunny day like any other, Ethan here being a young, energy filled child, decides he’s a bonafide ninja and tells me to throw pebbles at him from atop a hill so he can dodge them like a Neo, straight out of the Matrix. I did as instructed and lobbed some pebbles at him for some time, which, luckily for him, his training from Mr. Miyagi paid off, because he deflected or sidestepped each and every rock with ease. Apparently the challenge wasn’t great enough for Ninja Master Ethan though, as he instructed me to pick up a much larger rock next to me and chuck that at him…. or so I had thought. He was instructing me to throw a much smaller rock, about the size of a golf ball. But, alas, it was too late for poor Ethan, as my childish selective hearing skills were on the top of their game that day, as I feebly picked up the considerably larger rock, think watermelon size; cradled it against my chest and sent it along its merry way.

All of this occurring, as poor little Ethan was already climbing up the hill, with his Spidey-Senses turned off.

*CUR-THUNK*

This beast of a rock, crash landed right on top of his fragile head, with enough force to down a small deer. He tumbles backwards, flopping onto his back and tumbling down the hill, with exceptional speed, he must’ve grazed mach 1 I’m telling you. So he fumbles onto the dirt road at the bottom of the hill, and I realize what I’ve done, kind of. I rush to his side, and assist him enough so he can stand, we waddle back into his parents house, blood gushing from his head, enough to mask his face in red so that I can’t see his face. His head was just converted into a red water fountain I’m telling you, just utterly ridiculous. So I bring him inside, and Rachel, his mother rushes to him and props him onto the sink, panicking like any good mother would, and with good reason too, because I honestly didn’t know if this kid was gonna make it.

She washes the blood away the best she can, until the blood stops gushing onto the kids face, all the while she is juggling this and dealing with me pulling on her arm telling her, as self-centered as imaginable.

“Please don’t tell my mom” ..– what a guy.

Ultimately Ethan survives all of this, and now as Seniors in high school, we’ve moved past this traumatic experience, and we’re still good friends today, although yes, now he has an interesting shaped bald spot on the top of his head, but nonetheless we’re still friends.

I spent years denying that I messed up though, story changing as the years progressed, ranging from how I slipped on a wet rock beneath my feet, to my foot was caught in barbedwire so I tripped and the rock landed on his head. Now as the, incredibly responsible and mature individual I am, I am able to reflect back on this event and understand, that in fact.

I was just an idiot.

(Never got in trouble for it either, so score)