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STORIES - 'Miss black-t-shirt and sweat pants' 
-Carri’s story - PART 1

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have been disabled since birth. I also wonder why I was so stupid as to roller-skate with hands on the back of a car bumper; but I was eight and thought life was a film.

The driver didn’t know I was grabbing on his bumper, poor soul, as I was crouched down the back. As the car got toooo fast I let go and I can remember nothing else, except that I was totally winded, but thought I was ok. Then scatted home thinking, ‘wow that was brilliant’, took my skates off at home and promptly passed out into my hot/sour soup that mom always added some tomato soup and cream to. 

Six months later I had my first migraine and I puked and poo'd myself, but the pain was so much I didn’t notice until later when dad came up to see how I was and I burst into tears when I realized what had happened.

First touch of a teenager’s hand and guess what, yeah, trickle down my leg and the exit horrified the boy who told the whole school. So I kicked him on each cheekbone and broke his nose with a flat palm strike. He squealed like a piglet and I kicked both his knee caps and gave a twist punch to his balls, an edge of hand on the back of his neck… and told him that if he didn’t shut the fck up I’d gouge his right eye out and piss in the socket. 

‘Aye, I’m really sorry, I am. I did naet nae ye were a fckin ninja mutant headcase.’ 
I laughed and told him if I was a headcase I’d have struck a twist punch to his groin to fold him over then applied my knee to his nose and chops to the back of his neck with my left before squelching his eyes. Or following the axe hand edge of hand I’d apply karate-do down strikes to the back of his neck and just in case I had shattered any vertebrae I’d give him a reverse claw hand that’d rip his nose off.

‘Aye you look well bonnie when you’re angry,’ he said, and invited me on a date as soon as he got a shirt without blood on it on, So I grabbed his nose and re-set it quickly and then gave him a cap full of scotch for shock and checked him for concussion, but the strikes I actually made on him were completely pulled as I didn’t put full hip twist into the high kicks. His nose was just 'sore' for a day or so rather than having the fragile bones driven into his skull. 

RP then went around telling everyone how 'his lassie had just given him a right cleatin' and that night I got tiddly with him on a can he’d stolen from his dad and I wore a long green skirt with no panties and rubbed myself against the damp grass as he snogged me. 
My pee flowed into mother earth and became soul nitrates instead of shame. His dad got posted south, but we saw each other each summer and I still get occasional emails from him.

The worst thing I could imagine was having to leave nursing, but in effect I haven’t. Actually I’m bloody proof that nurses are daft cows as I’m working me arse off for free.

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