Tired. So very tired.
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shiner!

SOME REPLIES TO
"HEY, WHERE'D YA GET THAT SHINER?"

BY
KIM BOSCH



I'm tired of telling the story.
Nothing happened.
Itís just a little bruised.
A couple stitches.
I fainted in my bathroom over the weekend.
I slipped on the ice cleaning off my car.
My scarf tripped me into a garbage bin.
My nephew threw a rock at me.
I tried to climb into the boat without using the ladder.
I was making a bow to go with my arrows.
It was the airbag.
CDs have sharp corners.
Belts are not for swinging around your head like a lasso.
An icicle fell from the roof while I was on my smoke break.
I cut in line at the pizza place.
My mother caught me in bed with my stepfather.
I told my roommate she looked fat.
My horse kicked me.
I touched one of the strippers.
My partner failed to hold the branch back while we walked through the woods.
I was drunk and dancing the twist at a wedding.
I punched myself to get a part in a play.
It was a baseball,
a puck,
a squash racquet,
a Frisbee,
a horseshoe.
Stop looking at me!
Itís fine.
What black eye?








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