Once, when I was a kid, I got my braces stuck in my sock.
Here’s how it happened.
I was in 5th grade at the time and, like the pimp that I was, I was wearing those cool tube socks that rolled up to my knees. The top of the socks where marked with two thick, red bars. The only reason I remember those bars that clearly was because I got a good, long chance to stare at them as my teeth were ensnared between them.
But there were two stories that I began to tell people: one that made it seem like I wasn’t such a dipshit but rather the victim of circumstance, and another one that was actually the sad, sad truth.
I’ll start off with the lie.
There I was, sitting in my chair during class. But I didn’t sit normal. If I had, I might have been saved. Instead I sat with one foot between my butt and the top of the seat with the other foot on the ground. At one point during history I dropped my pencil, so I leaned over to pick it up. It was a little out of reach so I really had to strain my body to retrieve it. I didn’t want to get out of my half-pike position, so I strained harder and harder, pulling my lips back as the desk began to tip. Suddenly the guy in front of me pushed his seat back and slammed my desk into my head, which pinned my face against my sock. (The guy in front of me was actually Greg from my comic Off Road, whom I unfairly blamed for years after this incident.)
I tried to pull away but it was too late. The cotton of the sock was knotted around the metal of my teeth and I couldn’t seem to pull away. I looked like I had tried to suck my own balls and got caught halfway down. I tried to quickly pull free but it didn’t work. Instead I started sweating as I panicked. I tried pulling free again, but it hurt my mouth. The drool from my mouth made it hard to try and unhook myself from the soaked fibers. I remember staring at the floor wondering when people were going to start noticing. I didn’t realize that the teach had stopped teaching and was staring at me along with the other 29 students in the class (it’s America, people). Instead of trying to break free, I began to instead think of an explanation for the day I finally got unhooked.
I don’t remember how long I was stuck, but it was enough for everyone to start laughing. The worst thing was, NO ONE CAME TO MY AID for what felt like 5 minutes. Finally, the “nerd of the classroom” (soon to be replaced by me) handed me a pair of safety scissors and I was able to cut myself free.
Now…I challenge you to try and find a “cool way” to act after doing such a thing. It’s like when you’re walking down a hallway and you almost trip. Everyone who heard the skuff looks over at you at you catch you balance, but then what? The cool thing to do (clearly) is to pretend that you like kicking the floor, so you do it a few more times and ignore the odd looks people give you. But with something as bad as what I’d just done, there’s really no cool way to act. I just started laughing along with anyone else while I wiped the sock and drool from my face.
By the end of the day, everyone in the school had heard about it. Teachers who I’d never seen came into the room over the next week and joked around with me, telling me that I still had some sock stuck in my teeth.
The best I could do was telling them it was all Greg’s fault for slamming my face into my desk. Sure, I was a dork, but really…it could have happened to ANY ONE OF US!!!
Now, the truth…which is far more embarrassing.
I was sitting in my chair in that weird position for some reason, with my sock dangerously close to my face. I dropped my pencil, and I picked it up with no problem. But while I was getting it, I noticed how close my braces came to the cotton. “Whoa…that was close,” I thought to myself.
But then I really started to wonder. WAS is possible to get one’s braces stuck in his sock? I wasn’t sure…so I tried it. And I tried it again. It wasn’t easy, but eventually I did it. And…you know the rest.
But how many people are going to believe the second story? No one, of course. Besides, it only raises MORE QUESTIONS. Like what the HELL is wrong with me?
But I think the story brings up an interesting point, one that shows the self-destructive tendency within human nature. You’ve heard that mankind will inevitable end up destroying himself, right? That’s one theory. And I think there are a few psychologists who have suggested that every man has some amount of desire to bring hell down upon himself. Whoever it was, I think they were right.
And my story proves it.