Pride cometh before… you drop your cans?

So there I was, walking back from the shoppette here on Hovey after work today, carrying my bag of Bugles and 12-pack of lemon Nestea, thinking to myself, “Self, you did a great job today.  Even the Sergeant Major commended you!  That’s really cool!”  So I’m feeling pretty good as I head over the little footbridge and hoping I don’t kill myself by falling down the icy and narrow stairs at the end, and I even manage to do that well!  Trust me, when you’re carrying a 12-pack in one hand and using a cane with your other and you’ve only got like 4 inches of black-ice-covered concrete stairs, it’s a lot harder than you’d think.

Once I’m back on level ground, I take about two steps before I hear riiiip… clangclangbonkclangbonkbonkclang…  So I stand there, unable to stop the multitude of seemingly endless cans from spilling out of their torn cardboard container onto the concrete walkway below, and just pray that they don’t split open and douse me with warm sugary tea.  As soon as they all stop moving, I kneel (painfully) and begin putting the cans in the small bag with my Bugles and stuffing what won’t fit into my cargo pockets (I was still in uniform).  All but one survived the fall, and the one that didn’t was pissing his contents in my general direction, so I didn’t mind so much.  Jerk.

Just goes to show you, you should always use your backpack when carrying 12-packs of soda.  Never rely on the cardboard.

What?  You expected a different lesson?

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