The Battle of the Spoon
My favorite scar is just a small line on my leg. It doesn’t look like much, but it was well earned and came from a fierce battle several years ago. I was playing a game of spoons with my brothers downstairs when one of the spoons broke in half. To play the game, you pass face cards around the table until someone gets four cards of one kind. When this happens, that person takes a spoon. Sometimes the person will quietly sneak a spoon without anyone else even noticing, and sometimes they will get one for themselves, then grab the other spoons and randomly throw them around the room. After you see one person with a spoon, your object is then to get a spoon for yourself; however, there aren’t enough spoons for the last person to have one. It is kind of like musical chairs. When the spoon broke between my brothers in our basement, we decided to just keep using that spoon because we didn’t have an extra, but you had to get both halves. As the game went on, Keith took the first spoon, leaving my younger brother and me to fight it out with the last spoon. I finally ended up with the spoon, but the consequence was a cut gushing blood from my leg. It wasn't remarkably gruesome or deep, but sometimes the littlest cuts can be the worst, and there is still a faint scar even after all these years.
My favorite scar is just a small line on my leg. It doesn’t look like much, but it was well earned and came from a fierce battle several years ago. I was playing a game of spoons with my brothers downstairs when one of the spoons broke in half. To play the game, you pass face cards around the table until someone gets four cards of one kind. When this happens, that person takes a spoon. Sometimes the person will quietly sneak a spoon without anyone else even noticing, and sometimes they will get one for themselves, then grab the other spoons and randomly throw them around the room. After you see one person with a spoon, your object is then to get a spoon for yourself; however, there aren’t enough spoons for the last person to have one. It is kind of like musical chairs. When the spoon broke between my brothers in our basement, we decided to just keep using that spoon because we didn’t have an extra, but you had to get both halves. As the game went on, Keith took the first spoon, leaving my younger brother and me to fight it out with the last spoon. I finally ended up with the spoon, but the consequence was a cut gushing blood from my leg. It wasn't remarkably gruesome or deep, but sometimes the littlest cuts can be the worst, and there is still a faint scar even after all these years.
