Last night I noticed my friend Nason had a scar above his eye, the kind of scar that usually comes with a good story about how it got there. What he told me qualifies as one of the funniest things I have ever heard.
He was in pre-school, I can't remember how old he said he was, maybe 3 or 4. And there was a kid in his class swinging a toy firetruck around and around by the ladder. Nason wandered into the path of said firetruck and got cracked in the head.
When the teacher called Nason's mom, she said, "Mrs. Hengst, you need to come to the school right now. Nason has been hit by a fire truck." Then she hung up the phone without any additional explanation.
Nason's mom is still pissed.
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