I sit here, briefly, barely able to contain my PAIN. The throbbing monstrosity that was once my ankle is barely recognizable. I was prancing up on Gallows Hill, in Salem. THE Gallows Hill, where 20 decidedly NON Witches were hung. I look to my left, I look to my right. I should have looked DOWN, because there was this huge hole, and, well, I found it. This is what a broken ankle looks like. I haven’t gone to the hospital.
Notice the lovely swelling at the ankle, the deep blues and purples near the toes, the slight bend in the bone that screams “broken”.
Yup, it’s GOOD to be the king. I feel so proud, I even took a picture. This is my foot (on a fake magazine cover).
Enjoy. No, really. I insist.
[...] in a hole up there and either sprained it badly or possibly broke something. He laughs it off and makes fun of himself but his injury is serious. He managed to hobble down the hill and the dogs that previously had [...]