This Is How You Deal With a Hypochondriac

I scraped my knee this weekend. No listen: I scraped the dickens out of my knee. I mean, I went down like a bag of cement, and there is now a giant freaking hole where the skin over my kneecap used to be. And no, I was not drinking. Much.

Anyway, here’s a recent convo with Sgt Lucky about the knee. Keep in mind that at his job, they sometimes make them run holding ammo cans or wearing boots or carrying large humans, just for fun.

Me: Look at my knee.

Sgt Lucky: Nice.

Me: No, seriously, dude. It’s fucked up. The scab is like, green.

Sgt Lucky: Oh! (Looks at knee closely.) It has a skin on it. Like soup.

Who’s hungry?

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