The Trifecta of Idiocy

Have you ever had one of those days where you just can’t do anything right? Well I haven’t. Everything I ever do is right. Ahem. Okay, well sometimes maybe I make a mistake or two. But… Okay, well sometimes I have those days too. And it seems especially bad when it happens to me because usually when I start messing up, people start getting hurt. I’m not sure why, but it just seems to work out that way most of the time.

For instance, the other day at my nephew’s birthday party, we all went to Blortbortham’s Seafood & Sausage House over on Cooper Street. I was carrying my two-year-old princess on my shoulders, walking around the restaurant so we could see what people were eating. I would stop by a table and bend over to examine their plates and ask them if it was any good. “How’s the squid bladder with octopus semen sauce?” I would ask, for instance. Some of the patrons seemed put off by the fact that I was asking them what they were eating, but come on – you’re in a public eatery! You should expect to have some human interactions with strangers.

Anyway, after we made our rounds and went back to the private party room (where, by the way, they serve plecostamus kidneys in a warm buttermilk batter), I squatted low to make sure my baby girl didn’t ram her head into the door frame above. Duh! I’m a good dad, and I’m very aware of my surroundings. I’m not going to do something stupid like forget my daughter is on my shoulders and run her into the door frame! I’m not an idiot in other words.

So I ducked and made sure we got back in the room okay. Cool, cool, and – oh, hey, uncle Siege is in here! “Let’s say hi to uncle Siege, The Bug!” I say, standing up straight and putting her head right into the ceiling fan.

It’s not quite as bad as it sounds. I mean, only like three or four blades actually whapped her little head before Siege reflexively reached up and stopped the fan by grabbing a blade. It only made one small cut and a two-inch lump on her pretty forehead. Get over it. I did, however, at that point, decide to go ahead and put her down so as not to hurt her any more.

See, I know that bad things usually tend to happen in sets of three. And now with putting my darling baby’s head through the spinning ceiling fan, the countw was already up to two for her for the day. For me. For her. Whatever. It was the second time within an hour or two that I had caused her some fair amount of pain. I mean, pinching her chin with the snap of the childseat belt could have happened to anyone. But still. So I actively avoided her for a while so as to avoid having something stupid happen to her.

I’m not sure if causing someone else pain counts toward the three bad things happening to them or to me, the instigator of the pain. The pain bringer. So I didn’t know if the fall was the third in my trifecta for the day, or if it was a fresh start on a new set of three for myself. But really, who could have seen that coming? I mean, I thought those restaurant tables were stronger than that, and would support my weight. Of course, dancing on them like I was, I should have stayed in the middle of one table instead of on the seam between two of them. Because they collapsed right out from under me. And those two freshly filled beer pitchers that emptied all over me and the four or five glasses that exploded on the floor probably counted toward their own injury list.

Disregardlessly, I felt like it was probably time for me to just sit down for a while. I didn’t need to be a danger to anyone else – including myself. I felt like going and playing on the playground was probably safe. What can happen out there? Getting stuck in the tube slide doesn’t really count because it didn’t hurt me. Well, except for ripping some of the skin off my lower back as I skidded to a halt in one of the tight turns. And then the thirty or so minutes it took to dislodge myself and climb back out of it wasn’t fun either.

But yeah, I was beginning to feel a little bit like Arsenio Hall in the opening scene of Amazon Women on the Moon. Why is it that bad things always seem to happen in threes? Let’s get a quick thought from Haycomet. I want the female perspective on this.

I think bad things happen in threes because that is what we have come to expect. It’s like a superstition; if the idea is implanted, subconsciously it is acted upon. Let’s say I stumped my toe right after a black cat crossed my path; if I were superstitious, I’d blame the cat. Who knows if I would have stumped it if I hadn’t seen the cat. Bad things happen all the time, sometimes they happen in fives or sevens, but three seems to be the one we expect. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, Space.

Well, Haycomet, for your information, I don’t believe in coincidence. I also don’t pronounce it the same as you. I say coin-SIDE-ence. It’s crunk that way. I am also about as far from superstitious as – well, I don’t know. But pretty damn far. I could maybe go with that though. Fives or sevens. But, however, comma, if you want to go with your theory, notice there are no even numbers mentioned? See how bad things always happen in odd numbers? See? So you know that if two (or six or two hundred forty-four) bad things have happened to you that day, you’ve got at least one more coming. So look out.

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