Contrary to popular belief, just because Taran and I are twins does not mean we're indestructible.
Yes, I know. This truth is like unveiling a horror story between a turkey and Thanksgiving. It took us a couple of tries when we were younger to figure out that we weren't superman or superwoman. We learned we couldn't fly, walk through walls, skate to the moon or pull a double mctwist 1260 (this upsets me the most). So then we tried doing things normal people would do, like jumping on trampolines and skateboarding horizontally. Unfortunately that didn't turn out so well for us either.
You see, when Taran and I were but wee churros (we were like 6), we were frolicking around on our ginormous trampoline playing an innocent game of Teacher and Student. I have no idea where we found a giant cardboard box, but Taran had a long twig in his hand thwacking the wall and blabbering on and on about something we probably didn't even understand, but I was nodding as if I had a 4.0 Grade Point Average.
"Okay, Allison!" Taran said as he scooted the box to the very edge of the trampoline. "Are you ready for take off?!" He shouted in pure excitement. All of a sudden I realized, I went from being a prodigy student to becoming an Armstrong-professional astronaut in 3 seconds flat.
"Actually, no, wait--" Before I had a chance to look over my scribbled astronaut notes, my world shifted in a weird vertical-like fashion, and time slowed into an anti-gravitational sensation.
When the space shuttle landed onto planet earth, the Armstrong-professional astronaut and the prodigy student vacated from me, where only what was left was a little 6-year-old sprawled out in the grass in the backyard wailing as loud as she could.
To this day, I can still only imagine how Taran felt. He naturally has a kind and considerate heart, and so for him to see his student astronaut crying for like two hours straight, he did the best he could to cheer her up. He let me hold his balloon. He asked if I wanted anything to drink (probably chocolate milk). He let me pick whichever cartoon I wanted to watch. All of this would go on and on until I was feeling better again.
But here's the twist to the story! Apparently I broke a bone, but nobody knew it--not even my parents--for two days. Did I know it? Of course not. To me, it was just a battle wound of my astronomic 10-second adventure.
But for those two days, I couldn't move my right arm. I kept it in a bent position as if I was Captain America holding his patriotic shield of 'Murica-ness, and whenever somebody touched my shoulder, I would scream like a ring wraith or banshee (it was very appalling).
After those two painfully excruciating days of being a wounded student/astronaut/superhero/banshee, my parents took all us kiddos to some sort of choir-concert thing in a huge auditorium, and all I could do was cry (people must have thought I was touched, but my shoulder was out to get me). So, my dad kind of kidnapped me to the hospital (my mom had no idea where we went, and I thought that was funny), and the doctor was all like,
"Yeah, man. She's got a broken collarbone." My dad was all like,
"Oh. Crap."
Course that's just what I was hearing, and in the end I got a cool Snoopy sling that I wore around in kindergarten for like a month and even though I figured out I wasn't indestructible, I got all the attention I ever wanted.
The End.
Also Taran broke his wrist once when some guy pantsed him while jumping on the trampoline.
The THE End.
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