You Wanna Know How I Got This Scar?

So there I was, perched atop the Tarzan bar, when I decided that I wanted to go on the slide. Upon extracting myself from the bar, however, I discovered that, unbeknownst to me, there was grease in the inner workings of the sliding system. How exactly did I come across this fact? Well...there was a big black stripe on my back.

Oops.

I didn't take a picture of the stripe in its original state, because I couldn't bear to have a lasting record of my shame and indignity. But at least Gerard was not damaged. That would have been tragic.

Fortunately Gerard and myself survived the affair and carried on, although I did have to undergo some trials. Have you ever seen the inside of a washing machine before? Yeah. Neither had I.

I also had to take a bath in some Spray-N-Wash, which did not leave me smelling minty fresh, lemme tell you.  But it's all good now.

I do have a faint gray stripe on my back. As a memory of the whole debacle. I like to think it makes me a little edgier. If there's two things that impress the ladies, it's battle scars....and Gerard.

 

I think I'm still pretty dashing.