No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

• Short story

								
   It was a typical Sunday morning. My wife, Sandie, and I had started on our way to the local shopping district on a quest to peruse their wares and eventually buy something that I’m sure we didn’t need in the first place. We had already left our subdivision but were still on a side street in a residential area.  We were probably about twenty yards to the south of a small pond. I saw something in the road ahead. I slowed down and realized it was a box turtle eagerly meandering to the pond side of the street. Being the animal lover that I am, I decided to rescue the little creature from his impending peril. I will continue to refer to him as “him” or “he” although I couldn’t tell if he was a boy or girl. Duh! 

   I exited my vehicle and approached the subject. As soon as I had bent over to pick him up, he showed a burst of speed that was previously unknown to the species. This prompted a reflex action on my part to quickly reach for him, but to no avail. It had already disrupted my center of gravity to the point where I lost my balance. I was on a collision course with the pavement. In an attempt to break my fall, I extended both hands and lowered my right knee. They all met the concrete with a force substantial enough to remove a two-inch circle of fabric from my jeans along with a matching amount of meat from my knee. In addition, it created two large scrapes on the heels of both hands.  I either bruised or cracked a rib on my left side. But worst of all, my left pinky finger had sustained a sizeable slice from my fingertip to the first joint.

   By this time, my wife had exited the vehicle to get a better vantage point to view the action. This was so she could accurately report it to friends and family. A woman had pulled up behind our vehicle to see if she could help. Sandie had assured her that all would be ok because by now, I was already back on my feet. I was then able to secure the turtle who had surprisingly stopped either out of fear that I would land on him or maybe just pure amazement at the series of events. As I hauled him to safety, he proceeded to hiss and claw all the way to the edge of the pond. I put the ungrateful little bastard down in the safe zone and headed for my vehicle. My wife had already waved on the nice lady to proceed. She, in turn, smiled and waved at me as she drove right over the middle of the street where I had left a substantial amount of flesh and an equal amount of pride. I returned a sheepish grin. 

   Now, it was time to return to the home base to attend to my wounds and change my jeans. Once I was able to stop all the bleeding, we would proceed on our new mission to Urgent Aid so I could get the necessary stitches in my pinky finger. Before we left, however, we had to clean up the bathroom because, by now, it looked like a crime scene.  Upon arrival at Urgent Aid, after the usual lengthy wait for attention, we were called into a private room where we would wait another several minutes for a doctor to arrive. She was obviously quite curious as to what had happened, and my wife was more than happy to relate the circumstances. The doctor finally stopped laughing long enough to apply three stitches in my finger and bid me adieu. 

   In retrospect and all honesty, I believe it all would make for a pretty good cartoon starring the affable and rotund Fat Albert as myself. You just can’t make this stuff up folks! Hey! Hey! Hey! 
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