Toothsome Tale of Terror
April 5, 2007 – 3:08 amI put the heel of my right palm through the julienne teeth of the mandoline yesterday while prepping Veg O’Day (that’s technical jargon for the vegetables of the day). Carrots. The fat ones - and we have fat ones - occasionally jam midway through the blades, requiring a little surge of pressure to get them through. It was on one of those little surges that my hand lost its footing and went through. Speaking of little surges, say hello to Little Serge.
Okay, it’s actually the Québécois poet Claude Gavreau, creator of the exploréen language. But he looks like a little surge, doesn’t he?
Only two of the mandoline’s teeth actually got enough play to draw blood, so it almost appears as if I was bitten by a jenglot. I’d post a photo, but it’s an undramatic wound. I do have a forearm scar that looks like Alaska. I received the wound when a tidal spatter of grease leapt from a nearly white-hot cast iron skillet. The flesh flew from my arm as the lardy fire glanced across. I predicted terrible scarring and considered having it covered with a tattoo of Alaska, but it has since healed to mild contrast. Now I am considering a tattoo of Claude Gavreau. He looks a little like Alaska.
