WTF Stories of the Week

[Betty]

I'm not going to click that.

[Kevy Baby]

But there is a PICTURE!

[Betty]

And then you went and posted it on FB and I saw it by accident, damnit.

[Kevy Baby]

My work here is done

[Capt Jack]

its raining sharks

[Moonliner]

Originally Posted by Capt Jack

its raining sharks

And i'll bet not one of his shark buddies will belive his tail of alien abduction.

[Ghoulish Delight]

Aww, how come Greg Norman never showed up the times I was playing a round there?

[Strangler Lewis]

Originally Posted by Ghoulish Delight

Aww, how come Greg Norman never showed up the times I was playing a round there?

You must have been playing on Sunday.

As for those course marshals, didn't they see "Saving Private Ryan?"

[Ghoulish Delight]

Originally Posted by Strangler Lewis

You must have been playing on Sunday.

zing

[CoasterMatt]

Not for the squeamish, so properly spoilered - there are no images, but the descriptions may conjure things in your mind that can never be erased.

The following story is from a dear friend in Australia, who is a really good veternarian.

Spoiler:

I need to start getting back into the swing of things, hence this attempt at getting my sense of humour back into gear. That said, you may want to stop reading now if you are the squeamish type. My sense of humour may still be broken.

As you all should know by now, I have a new puppy in the house. A Great Dane, 11 weeks old, by the name of Matilda. Up until recently, Banjo (my Labrador) and her have been the best of friends. About five days ago, Matilda did her best to undermine that blossoming friendship.

4 am. I'm asleep in bed. Matilda has already developed appropriate bladder control, and is allowed to sleep inside, in the living room. Banjo also sleeps in the living room, on his couch, which is too tall for Matilda to get on by herself, though she tries. It seems that she had tried once again now.

4:01 am. I am awakened by a scream. A blood-curdling scream. Not a yelp, or a bark, or a growl. A scream, followed by a loud thud. It snaps me out of my sleep like being slapped hard across the face, and I bolt out of bed and hit the lights as I do so. My house is pretty open-plan, so in a about seven strides, I'm in the living room, where I turn on the lights.

I am greeted by the sight of Banjo standing in the middle of the floor with blood dripping from between his hind legs, bug-eyed and not daring to move, and dead silent. Matilda is lying against my computer desk, curled into a tight ball with huge eyes and trembling fit to fall apart. I drop down to all fours and take a look between Banjo's legs, and I am greeted by the sight of a testicle. A bare testicle, with the scrotal skin peeled back off it and hanging below, bleeding pretty profusely.

So, I dash to the S8 safe, grab a vial of morphine, and pump Banjo with half of it, followed by a heavy dose of antibiotic. He succumbs to this quickly, and whilst he's stuporous, I grab my stitch kit and quickly tack the scrotal skin back in place with a few sutures, and then use tissue adhesive glue to bond the rest of it back in place. This all happened in about the space of about 5 minutes.

Banjo's bleeding under control, I go to check Matilda. She hasn't moved from the computer desk, and I give her a once-over. I can't find any broken bones, but I do find a nicely forming hematoma on her back where she slammed into the door of my computer desk, and a few black scrotal hairs under her upper lip.

As far as I can piece together, I think this is what happened:

Banjo: Zzz.
Matilda: Zzz.
Banjo: Zzz.
Matilda: I am now awake. I want to be on the couch where Banjo is.
Banjo: Zzz.
Matilda: I will attempt to jump up on the couch, in the dark, because I cannot see how tall the couch really is and therefore I should be able to make it now.
Banjo: Zzz.
Matlida: Oh no. I am still not tall enough to make it. I am falling backwards. I will attempt to halt my fall by grabbing the first thing that comes in contact with my mouth. This soft, fleshy, hairy protuburence will do.
Banjo: Ow, my balls. I will kick with my hind legs as hard as I can to dislodge this unwanted assault on my scrotum and then jump off the couch in shock.
Matlida: I am flying.
Banjo: I am bleeding.
Matilda: I have stopped flying.
Banjo: I am still bleeding.

Banjo is recovering thanks to the wonder of heavy pain relief and heavy antibiotics in the hopes that I will not have to do a full scrotal resection and orchidectomy. Matilda is also recovering. For the first time today, they looked at each other without an expression of sheer terror on their faces, but I am keeping the separated until Banjo heals completely.