I have a four inch scar on my right calf from a coffee table incident.

a little bit graphicI was ten...ish or so. In the fourth grade. Christmas time at my grandmother's house. We were getting ready to leave and I hopped up to give her a hug on the couch, brushing against the coffee table as I did so. I turn around to situate on my couch and just see blood everywhere, gushing out of my leg. I guess there was a chip in the corner of the table and I raised my leg at just the right time for it to really get in there.

Blood is still coming out and going everywhere. Everyone is panicking and trying to stop the blood. What does my grandmother do? She goes and gets a jar or cayenne smurfing pepper and dumps the entire thing on my leg. I was sobbing and going into shock and screaming before, but when she dumped that smurfing jar I began really screaming bloody murder. Her reasoning? That it would stop the bloodflow. Flour would have done that. Anything else would have done that. Try sticking some cayenne pepper in a paper cut and tell me how that feels and then magnify that by a billion and you will have what I smurfing felt with my leg.

Emergency room, doctor is pissed as all hell because instead of a quick, clean stitch up, he has to spend an hour cleaning and scraping cayenne pepper out of the wound. End result: sixteen stitches on my muscle, sixteen stitches on my skin.

smurfing bitch coffee table got me good.