oh gravy, i couldn't even begin to count burn scars. i was once using a piece of shite pull through knife sharpener to sharpen a carving knife when it popped out and sliced my left index finger down to the knuckle bone. i was on the carving station at a casino buffet. by the time i made it back to a sink in the kitchen, my glove was full of blood and people started screaming thinking i had sliced my finger off. i just wanted to super glue it. they insisted i get stitches. fail. of course, my real badges of honor are worn on each forearm. they're actual battle scars from Iraq. doing a raid on a market in abu gharib, some guy materialized out of the crowd holding a switchblade, slashed at me twice, then buried the knife a half inch into the ceramic plate of my body armor. i didn't realize until after the mission was over that the dipstick had flayed me open on both arms. two marine medics and half a tube of super glue later, the scars are barely visible. of course, the iraqi learned the hard way not to bring a knife to a gunfight.  |