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I've had two brushes with death.
When I was 15 we used to live next this quick stop which was next to a busy ass four lane highway. I had picked up all the essentials (twinkies, beef jerky, those stupid mini-muffins etc) and had slapped it all into this cheap plastic bag ready to get heading home. Well, the bag broke and in the midst of trying to salvage all the goodies I rode right out on the shoulder of the highway. It was dark and I didn't see it till after it passed within a few feet of my head, but I sure felt the semi rush by doing about 65. The truck slammed on his brakes and I about crapped my pants. I didn't wait around, I had the presence of mind to pick up all my stuff and ate most of it out on the front porch shaking. The other guys were kind of pissed off I ate all the good stuff, but screw them, right? Next time they can play chicken with death for mini-muffins.
About 8 years later, I was working round the house replacing a breaker in the box that everyone swore was broken. While I was concentrating and trying to make sense of all the pictures (I had never done anything like this...guess that was my first mistake) my buddy's dog came and planted his cold nose right in the crack of my ass. I jumped, the shit was shocked out of me. My "buddy" says he knocked me away. What the hell do I know? I can't remember. I just know my whole body hurt for about a week and that damn dog stayed on the runner outside.
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No signature. None. Seriously.
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