One day I was up on my roof with my airsoft gun, shooting at the mailbox, bored, when I had the genius idea to try to three sixty no scope. I was stupid at that time, and the gun was not mine. (I wasn’t supposed to have it) I stole it from my brother. I jumped gracefully, landing on my face. I felt a tile detach under my foot, and I slid for about 5 feet, and then stopped right next to the edge of the roof.
     “Whew!” said I, a relieved look on my face.
     I looked down at my legs, expecting a small scratch somewhere.
     “[String of profanities]” said I, a horrified look on my face.
    I was wearing shorts, and there was absolutely nothing to stop me from getting cut on the roof tiles. I could see that I was screwed. There was a cut, spewing blood, about an inch and a half long. And it was dripping blood on my beautiful shoes!
     I wiped my shoes off first, because I didn’t realize the severity of the cut yet. I went into the house, dripping blood. Then I called my dad, who was upstairs.
     He came down with a tired look on his face. It didn’t stay bored for long.
     “What now- OH MY JESUS WHAT HAPPENED!”
     “Erhm… I was doing homework, right, and then-”
     “Yeah totally. What actually happened?”
     “I fell from the roo-”
     “You WHAT NOW! HOW DID YOU EVEN GET ON THE ROOF?”
     “I’m a ninja,” I said.
     He drove me to the hospital, me dripping blood on the dog pee control mat he put on the seat. It was a new car. He wasn’t taking any chances. We got to the hospital and I dripped blood all over the nice carpet, a passing dog, the floor, 2 chairs, an old blind lady, and the receptionist. I couldn’t stop the blood. But at that point, I didn’t even give a ---- anymore.
    They unwrapped the hasty tourniquet and took out a needle. They stitched it over and over again, and the whole time I was just playing with my dad’s phone. I got 6 or seven stitches, and my leg looked like someone accidentally mistook me for their half knitted sweater. It was 15 minutes, I think, before the white clad doctor finally gave me my well earned lollipop.
     You can, to this day, see the dent on the sidewalk where my dad beat his head for the next 10 hours. It costed around 500 trillion, I think, to get the stitches. I don’t think he’s going to buy me an Xbox for Christmas anytime soon.
     My brother, being the -------- he is, told everyone at his school I ripped my leg open while playing with barbie dolls. I mean, I OBVIOUSLY don’t still play with barbie dolls. Totally. 100%.
     I still didn’t regret falling from the roof,  as I had bragging rights now.
     The kids at school are going to be so jealous that I have this cool scar! Those were my thoughts. Yes, that’s how stupid I was back then.
     Needless to say, the roof, my allowance, all electronics, books, candy, tv, and the gun were all put off limits for a bazillion years.
     “Isn’t it obvious not to jump around on a wiggly roof for no reason at all while trying to do a full 360?” you ask.
     Sometimes things aren’t so obvious until after you make the mistake.