This is a story on an elbow. A left elbow, to be specific. Now just because this elbow happens to be our protagonist we shouldn't assume that there is anything of apparent importance about about, involving, or pertaining to said elbow, whom is now magically personified and will be hereafter be referred to as Elbow. Elbow is a chipper young elbow of some 20 summers, living a normal elbow life, as most elbows do. Many years ago, Elbow and I would often go bike riding. Biking is an exhilarating experience, and the young fourteen year old Elbow and I often sought excitement in dangerous dare-devilry while piloting our bicycles. At a family friend's house, Elbow and I had decided to go riding around on bikes with that family's son, whom was near the same age as Elbow and I. This family's house sat at the mouth of a strange valley with many levels. There was a large hill that one would need to travel up, over, and down if you were traveling to or away from the house. This hill was an exciting prospect for young would be adrenaline junkies, as the long and steep slope the hill would, with assistance from the force of gravity, provide an efficient boost to the propulsion provided by my Legs (distant cousins of Elbow, twice removed.) allowing us to reach speeds far beyond what would normally be achievable on flat ground. Flash forward, and we're racing down the hill. The other boy we were accompanied by is lost somewhere far behind us traveling slowly. This bothered us not, as he was rather boorish and in no way was missed as a companion on this adventure. Anyway, we were racing down the hill, full speed, awash in the many competing forces. Gravity trying to tear the bike from under us, a white knuckle grip pulling my arms and Elbow and I towards the body of the bike, my legs stiff and steady maintaining a delicate balance, with body weight shifting left and right to maneuver the bike around turns, curves, and twists. I was poised, concentrating on the path ahead of me, when the delightful little demon of nervousness and fear crept up my back, over my shoulder and down to my Hands whom stood paralyzed. My mind was also stricken, and I had seemed to have forgotten about the existence of my vehicles brake system. I soon lost control, and consequently fell off and crashed the bike.

Most of Elbows face had fallen off (read: torn off, ripped off, or scraped off). Blood had begin to pour from my left elbow and palm, which had both sustained almost all of the damage my body received. I then had to pick my bike up and walk it down the rest of the hill to the family's house.

I walked in through the back door, for fear of dirtying their floor with my blood. Which was dripping all over the place, leaving a small trail of small red dots wherever I went. The blood at this point had covered most of my arm, and gave my arm a sort of campy-horror-movie-special-effects feeling.

I showered, and then we (the families father) removed the rocks from my arm, we wrapped it up in bandages, and here we are today.

In retrospect, I should have gotten stitches.