How the Hell Did That Happen?

It's time to play everybody's favorite game..."How the Hell Did That Happen?"

For those of you unfamiliar with the game, here's how it works:

I show you a picture of an injury/scar/bruise and then present you with three scenarios. Your job is to guess which scenario is the truth and which two are transparent lies meant to sensationalize the situation. Guess correctly, and you could win a new car!* Guess incorrectly, and you will die exactly seven days from the time you read this blog.**

* You probably won't, and if you do, it won't come from me.

** The Ring 3 anyone? If a producer is out here reading this, here's your chance. I'm picturing Ben Affleck and Britney Spears in the lead roles.


Scenario #1: It is a dark and stormy night. I've just left the pub and, though I've had more shots than 50 Cent before he was famous, I've got a hankering for some Jack Daniels.

Jack and I go way back. We fought in 'Nam together, Jack and I. Though he wasn't much help when I had to steer the tank, if you get my drift. On this lonely night, I need an old friend like Jack to confide in.

But on my way to the drive-in liquor store, I am pulled over by a "copper." A "copper" is how I refer to a police officer, because I have absolutely no respect for authority. I've also seen a few too many movies featuring gangsters from the 1920s. Jack loves those movies.

As the "copper" heads towards the van, I slowly inch my hand toward my trusty 12 gauge Beretta, whom I affectionately refer to as "Eleanor." Jack and Eleanor once had an affair when I wasn't around. But I forgave them. I'm not here to judge.

I am here to shoot me a "copper." So when he asks for my license, I give him Eleanor instead.

"Here's a Christmas present, Copper," I say in my best John McClane voice as the bullet barrels through his temple. "Sorry I forget to wrap it."

Before I even finish the line, I know it is perfect for this movie script I'm working on. It's a real Holiday blockbuster. Think of it as The Untouchables meets The Goonies. Anyway, I'm so excited that I immediately turn back to grab my notepad and promptly hit my head on my cup holder, giving me an unfortunate black eye.

I am so clumsy!


Scenario #2: Did I ever tell you that I have super powers? No? It's weird that I haven't mentioned that yet in this blog.

So yeah. I have super powers. By day, I'm a mild-mannered blogger who travels the continent in his 1992 GMC Vandura. But by night...I am Owlman.

Yeah, I know it's not very catchy, but all the good superhero names are taken and my only powers are flying, turning my head around 360 degrees, and hunting small rodents...so I was pretty much stuck with Owlman.

So I'm not really big on this whole crime-fighting thing, but I figure if you've got super powers, you have to do something with them, right? So I spend most nights flying around, trying to find my place in the superhero world.

Once, I saw this kid with glasses who kind of looked like Harry Potter, and I thought, "Perfect! I could totally be his owl and deliver important messages between Hogwarts and this world of muggles!" But it turns out, he was just a normal kid with glasses.

Actually, he was pretty creeped out by the whole thing. You'd think, "man in an owl costume flying" would be a more interesting conversation to a kid with glasses than "why I am in his room," but you'd think wrong. It's embarrassing being a superhero with a restraining order.

So last night, I came up with a totally awesome way to utilize my powers. I would be the perfect complement to Santa Claus. Think about it. That can't be easy delivering presents to all the kids in the world in one night. Well, all the kids who aren't poor at least. And who else can fly? I mean it's pretty much just me. Plus, I can get rid of all those pesky rats if they try to eat the cookies children leave for Santa.

So I go down to the mall to offer Santa my services, but when I get there, he's got this surly, righteous, holier-than-thou attitude. I'm trying to offer this guy my services, and all he can say is "Leave me alone. I'm on my lunch break."

The next thing I know, Santa and I are fighting right there in the middle of the food court. I got some good shots in, but when I get temporarily distracted by a bunny rabbit in the pet store, he catches me with a good right cross, giving me a black eye.

Boy am I lucky Santa's got limited power in his right hand. If he'd hit me any harder, my head would've spun all the way around, right there in front of all those people.

Now that would've been embarrassing!


Scenario #3: I am playing in a pick-up game of basketball. As I go up for a rebound, an opponent accidentally hits me in the eye with his elbow. He immediately apologizes and all is forgotten.


So there you have it. One black eye, three equally outlandish scenarios. It's your job to determine "How the Hell it Happened." Good luck; you're going to need it.

In the meantime, I'll be off working on my Plan B. This could do irreparable harm to my modeling career.