Pain gets a chuckle

Once, in 10th grade I think, I was making a movie with two good friends, Sam and John. Sam, being a wiry, giggly fellow with multiple nicknames and John actually being a she-male. Prior to creating a scene from the book "All Quiet on the Western Front," Samuel B. had the notion that for the benefit of a good grade in English class (and the subsequent humor), he willingly would fling himself headfirst down a flight of steps. Upon ascertaining the potential danger involved in this stunt and the almost certain risk of paralysis, Sammy Q. had doubts in his noble deed.

Luckily, I so eloquently added the reassurance of, "Well, this should protect you, " while carefully placing a soft pillow at the bottom of the staircase and alleviating any sentiment of inevitable destruction that Sam may have had.

Needless to say, he commenced in calming himself, closed his eyes and cast his ill-fated body, feet first down the flight of stairs — consequently being punished by all 12 steps on the way down. For conceptual purposes, just picture a pipe cleaner being put through a rock crushing machine.

Admittedly, Sam was extremely hurt — but not deceased thanks to a little assistance from the friend we liked to call, "tender pillow." In fact, it was not the self-degradation of Samuel, nor the fact that he most likely had a compound fracture of his left tibia — no. It was the impetus involved — human catalyst formulating one of the greatest scene-blunders the little town of Ashland had ever laid her sweet, sweet eyes upon.

People were hurt, yes. Teachers and peers never would be the same. And we had just conjured up what was potentially the worst and most over-hypothesized conception of a scene the high-school-English-class-video world ever had known. But a strong lesson was learned during this stunt which never was to be forgotten: Self-inflicting injuries always are comical — always. We got an A on the movie.

Jesson Zafar is a senior CIS major.