Swinging.

It has been over a week since the attacks, and on Friday I finally felt capable of leaving the house without pain. Just my luck that Ray would be having a swing dance. I was very seriously involved in swing dance competitions throughout junior high, high school, and college, and I do not boast when I say that I have an album full of ribbons and awards.

The temptation proved too great, and those dancing were misrepresenting the form so horribly that I felt compelled to clear the floor with my cane and show how good swing is done. Taking the nearest lady, who happened to be a somewhat portly femme, as my partner, I yelled to the band to start up again. They launched into some lively time, and I felt the old rhythm start to pump within me. Soon I was leading the female around the floor, only to discover that she was as cooperative as an angry couch, and about as wieldy. Disgusted with her esprit de corps, I spun her off into the audience, and then embarked upon a familiar old solo swing routine I used to do back in my peak.

I suppose the strains of the recent attacks, as well as all the time it's been since I was in top shape, were working against me. I executed a perfect backflip which was meant to go directly into the splits, but as I landed I felt myself go into a blinding pain.

Several hours later I awoke in the hospital, with both my legs in traction. Dr. Andretti informed me that both of my knees had been hyperextended, and that it would be a period of several weeks before I could attempt unassisted ambulation again. I don't need to tell you that in my down time, I will be preparing an iron-clad legal case against the post office, the police department, and all who were in attendance at Ray's party this Friday.