[Gallagher]

I'm one of those people that doesn't remember much from their childhood, but one story I think about, and I think about often, comes from when I was around 8 years old.

I'd just had the 3rd eye surgery to fix my lazy eye, and was out tentatively riding my bike, as kids do. And as kids do, especially ones that had surgery not a month before and still have sensitivity to light do, I fell right on my fokkin face like a doof lol.

I wasn't hurt. Heck, there wasn't even any blood. But my knee was a little sore.

And there, embedded in my knee? Was a rock.

Me, being a young child and ill equipped for such clearly devastating bodily injuries, went to my parents for assistance. They had never failed me before! Surely they would know how to fix a case of rock-in-my-knee!

But alas, as I stood there, half panicked in our cozy little kitchen (better light in there is what they always said), they told me, t'was not a rock. T'was a scab.

Now I, being a clever child that understood how scabs look and how rocks look, was dubious. In fact, my feelings at the time were something along the lines of, "????????????? IT'S A ROCK???????????"

But even when this little rock wiggled itself free, even when i held this precious little pebble in my own two hands, they denied it.

It was just a scab.

...

Now, I'm almost 26 years old. I remember this all too well. I remember my distress and their denial, and it's hilarious, like seriously what the fuck it was so obviously a rock??

And I tell mother dearest, I say, "Nana do you remember that thing with the rock?" And I tell her this story again.

...

"It was a scab."

.........

OH MY

GOD

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IT W A S A R O C K