09/16/2026
Hear ye, hear ye.
Henceforth, I shall no longer speak the true account of how I came to injure my shoulder.
For to say, “I separated my AC joint whilst pushing upon a bar to secure the sheep within their headlock gates” is a most undignified explanation for an injury of such considerable suffering.
Therefore, by authority vested in me by absolutely no one, I have amended the historical record.
We shall simply add the letter E.
I did not injure myself whilst pushing a bar.
I separated my AC joint whilst pushing a BEAR.
There. Much more respectable.
The beast was enormous. The struggle was fierce. Neither man nor livestock dared intervene. I fought valiantly, armed with naught but courage and questionable upper-body strength.
The bear was eventually subdued, though not before my shoulder was grievously sacrificed in defence of the flock.
Should anyone inquire further, kindly inform them that the details of the encounter have been sealed by order of the Crown.
Let history remember not the bar.
Let history remember the bear.
For sometimes the difference between an unfortunate farm injury and an act of extraordinary heroism is merely one well-placed E.
