What The Fork

This all happened two days ago. I say that as if days are even a thing anymore. We’re just living from tweet to tweet, at this point. Anyway, if today is Thursday, then the following events took place on Tuesday night.

Into the time machine!

Let me set the scene for you. I was in the kitchen making dinner. There, scene set. This dinner required about 35 minutes of meal prep. There were a lot of bowls and plates, who had been hired to hold food until I was ready to cook it.

Plates are just backpacks that never close and break when you drop them.

In the pan on the stove was some olive oil, minced garlic – which is a pain and three-quarters – and small balls of sausage. Not quite a clean slice, but not quite a meatball. A small ball of sausage. Like a pizza topping but bigger, but not too big.

Got it? Great!

Anyway, it was time to add some shrimp to the party. The shrimp had been thawing in a bowl. So, there I am, holding the bowl in my left hand, and tossing shrimp in the pan with my right.

The modern-day Emeril Lagasse.

When the last shrimp is out of the bowl, I must decide if I’m going to put the bowl in the sink, or if I’m going to put it straight in the dishwasher.

Well, the precedent I set with the plate of garlic, and plate of sausage, was that they went straight into the dishwasher, therefore bypassing the lazy option of letting them sit in the sink for no reason.

Sinks are basically a waiting room for plates. No one likes waiting rooms. It’s no-man’s-land. You’re not quite where you need to be, but it’s too late to turn back. We would all prefer a world where we go from the front desk to the back room, so I bestow that luxury upon plates whenever I can.

So, I go put the bowl in the dishwasher. Right next to the spot where the dishes go, there is an area for cutlery. There was already a fork in there, staring straight up at me.

AND THEN IT HAPPENED.

As I placed the bowl down, the fork attacked me. It stabbed me in my right index finger, right below the cuticle. I had to Google “what’s the area below the fingernail called” for that word.

I was in pain, but for a split second I thought, “it’s just a fork”. It wasn’t until I flipped my hand over that I saw blood coming out of me.

My high school English teacher always said that if we didn’t have a pen or pencil, we should bite off the end of our finger and write in blood. Here I am, 11 years too late on that.

There was nothing cute-icle about this situation. Chunks of skin had been displaced. Upon further examination, some of my skin was transferred to the fork in the dishwasher.

“IS MY SKIN SOME SORT OF TROPHY TO YOU!?!?!” is what I didn’t yell at the fork. Come on, guys.

This is the thanks I get for skipping the “waiting room” step in a plate’s life.

I went back to the stove and turned it off. That made me mad because there was something in the oven and I had timed things, perfectly, so everything would finish at the same time. Now, that wouldn’t happen because I had to go deal with my finger.

I basically got hit by a parked car. I realize this now. A parked fork. How pathetic.

I went to the washroom and put pressure on my stab wound. For a moment, I felt like an athlete. Like, “Hurry up and get me stitched up, so I can get back out there”. I never stopped thinking about how the fork threw off my cook times.

Still mad about it.

Some Polysporin and one bandage later, I was back in the kitchen with nine fingers ready to go to war. I finished making dinner and it was great.

Then I went to brush my teeth, and it was a disaster trying to hold the toothbrush with my right hand. A complete mess. Toothpaste and water was dripping everywhere. The toothbrush got slippery and I almost dropped it a few times.

I felt like a toddler, who had wandered into the washroom by accident. Like, someone better come find me before I put toothpaste on the toilet seat, and mouthwash down the vent.

I’m a pretty imaginative toddler, aren’t I?

Over the past few years, I’ve experimented with brushing my teeth while using my left hand, just for fun. Well, time to shine! Time to earn that contract! Show ’em what you got, left hand!

Nothing. It got nothing. Now I know why, when you make the letter “L” with your left hand, it is directed at yourself.

I washed my hands, shook some water off of them in the sink before grabbing a towel, and what do I see? Red water drops in the sink. I shake my hands again. More red water drops.

Am I wizard? Am I making it (toxic) rain?

Sadly, neither.

Some water had infiltrated my bandage. It must’ve snuck in during the changing of the guard. Pesky water and that dog! (Scooby-Doo reference).

So then I had to re-wrap my finger. This time, with two bandages. What an ordeal, all because of a stupid fork.

You don’t realize how valuable your index finger is until it’s on the Injured Reserve list. I can’t bend it because there are two bandages wrapped around the top.

It’s basically an inverted bowling pin on a diet.

Picture it…picture it…good.

As I type this, it’s uncomfortable to use, so I’ve subbed in my middle finger to hit the keys, while my index finger just floats in the air like a kite.

One thing I’d be great at doing is hailing a cab, or calling a waiter over at restaurant, because this finger won’t go down.

Unfortunately, we’re locked inside for the next 18 years (rough estimate), so I can’t even put my new superpower to use.

When I wash my hands, the top of my right index finger practices social distancing from the water. I don’t want a wet bandage. Who does?

As of today, my finger is healing, though I’m still missing some skin.

I think my new goal for this Social Distancing period, is to train my left hand to be better at doing things. Put a baseball glove on my left hand and I can catch anything you throw at me.

Tell me to brush my teeth with it and I turn into Chet – the “reindeer in training” from The Santa Clause 2. Completely uncoordinated and hopeless.

Google tells me that training my non-dominant hand will boost my brain power. Just what I need!

Perhaps, then, I’ll be smart enough to not get stabbed by a fork in the dishwasher.

The End.

I hope you enjoyed this (hopefully funny) story and were able to laugh at my misfortune. I’m just going to end this post by muttering to myself. Don’t mind me.

A fork, man. A fork. Not even a knife. A fork. Forks are vicious. We put them in our mouth? Are we a bunch of sadists? Well, at least it wasn’t a spoon. That would be even more embarrassing. 

About Paul

I think of my blog as an all-you-can-read buffet. There's something for everyone and complimentary mints at the door as you leave.
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29 Responses to What The Fork

  1. James says:

    This story could only be funnier if it had been a spork, because sporks are inherently funny utensils. But then you’d lose the title of your post because “What The Spork” is not funny at all. So a fork is probably the right way to go if you’re going to injure yourself and you’re also a blogger.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Paul says:

      This is the kind of analysis I enjoy! You’re completely right, it had to be a fork to do it, just so I could write a funny post about it. Sporks would be a suitable option for a sequel.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Catherine says:

    It is a story for the grand-kids: that one time in 2020 when we were in isolation, the forks attacked us. I almost lost a finger. I was lucky, others *purposeful pause* not so much.
    I like the title, very “the Good Place”-ish. Glad you are healing. I say, down with the forks, let’s just use knives and spoons. xx

    Liked by 2 people

    • Paul says:

      Down with the forks! We’ll put a fork in them, so to speak. Everyone is good at saying, “Stay safe!” these days, but no one warned me of fork attacks. And yes! I like the connection to The Good Place. Though this feels like the bad place.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Goodnes, Paul! What a roller coaster ride! What were you making for dinner? It sounds amazingly! I’ll trade you some for those gummies I left outside for you.

    Ya know what happened?! I have a theory! IT WAS CHEF PAULO! He was probably hiding under the dishwasher door while it was open and then just as you but the bowl in, he knew it was his time to strike! He held the fork so it wouldn’t wobble, the positioned itself so the prongs were the right way, then probably jabbed you with it and disappeared out of sight before you even had a chance of knowing what was going on! #hesjealousyourecookingandhesnot

    Liked by 2 people

    • Paul says:

      In the pan was some cut up spicy sausage, shrimp, broccoli, and mushrooms. In the oven was pizza and garlic bread!! Eating in style over here lol

      YES CHEF PAULO! After I wrote the first paragraph, I realized this would’ve been a perfect story for him to do. I have been meaning to bring him back…

      But yes! I like you’re conspiracy theory! This was totally a thing Chef Paulo would do. He can’t stand the HEAT! So he stabs me instead. What a guy.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Authoress51 says:

    Prayers for healing for the finger. At least no stitches were involved.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. lol

    You’re right about the sink being the waiting room. Our dishwasher is located next to the sink, literally, and usually open if not full, but for some reason various people in this household insist on making use of the sink waiting room. Annoying. But now, I know why. Beware the fork attack. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Paul says:

      Haha the vague “various people in this household” line – definitely used that one before to get a point across. Perhaps they are the smart ones after all hmmm…darn forks.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Katherine says:

    Ok, I guess I am sorry for being amused of this story, and I am really sorry for the pain you had to endure.

    Accidents are imminent and they are likely to happen, Paul. Like, even today during my exercise managed to almost injure my leg, somehow. I only got rid with one bruise, but yeah, could have been worse.

    It’s important that we learn to be more careful in the future and take care of ourselves and stay away of the forks, and well, in my case, the ground 😅😅.

    Take care and stay safe! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Oh Paul, how will ever be able to show your face in public again? I mean when those eighteen years have come and gone? Lol
    Seriously, you got stabbed by a fork, that’s some serious stuff Paul. If the forks have begun to rebel, keep an eye out for the knives and spoons. The spoons are dangerous, they seem so quiet and simple but beware, they are mean! 😝🤣😂

    Like

  8. Rebecca says:

    Dang! That must’ve been one sharp fork. The forks I use at home would never harm me (or my family). Sounds like that special fork betrayed your trust!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. peckapalooza says:

    I’ve been putting forks and knives in the dishwasher with the pointy side down ever since… uh… I don’t know… one of the Final Destintion movies. I can’t remember which one. I’m pretty sure someone got stabbed by a butcher knife that was sticking up in the dishwasher… or maybe it was just an obvious “that’s the way she’s gonna die” kind of things that they threw into the scene to throw off the viewer. But it was enough to convince me that the handle should be sticking up. And I’m sure the argument could be made that the silverware and cutlery doesn’t get as clean if the pointy sides are down inside the cutlery container, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Paul says:

      You, sir, are playing chess while the rest of us are playing tic-tac-toe. I’d love to know if other people saw that movie and also decided to turn the forks and knives down as a result. I’m not even sure the fork would fit in the dishwasher slot if I put it in upside down. That’s the way they should go, though. Because when they’re clean, we have to grab them from the end, rather than the handle, and surely that can’t be safe – we’re just putting our germs on the part people put in their mouth. SOMETHING MUST BE DONE!

      Liked by 1 person

      • peckapalooza says:

        The only annoying part is that my forks often get stuck in the holes at the bottom of that cutlery basket. Which probably just means I should remove the whole thing when putting the silverware away, rather than grab one fork at a time. The one fork usually pulls up the whole thing anyway.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Paul says:

        This is exactly what I pictured when you said you put them in face down haha. Simple things are so complicated sometimes. There has to be a better way.

        Liked by 1 person

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  12. Bex says:

    I’m wondering at what speed and force you were moving at that resulted you in impailing your digit on a stationary, unsuspecting mini tritant!? I think I have to take the side of the fork on this one, Paul. Sorry.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. mydangblog says:

    I love the way you’ve told this story–so funny! As my dad likes to say, “You’re an accident looking for a place to happen!”

    Liked by 1 person

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