I Remember the Dart

My little sister and I got into a fight. We were in what we called The Playroom (a concrete floor addition to our old farmhouse that housed a pool table, the “fancy” record player cabinet, the sewing machine, a bar made of barrels, and the only closets for my parents’ clothes. We thought it was HUGE.) She grabbed the darts that were in the dartboard above the pool table and started chasing me. Suddenly I had this terrible pain in the heel. I stopped and looked down to see a red dart stuck in my foot. Probably realizing she wouldn’t be able to catch up with me, she had thrown a dart but never thinking it would hit me. We looked agog at each other like, “Oh shit! Now what?!”

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2 thoughts on “I Remember the Dart”

  1. Hah! My brother got annoyed with me hanging around downstairs with him and his friends, and threw a dart at me to make me go away. As I was running at the time, it stuck firmly in the back of my thigh. Yeah. That was fun.

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