So I was working in the doctor's office and he sends around a guy for a foot x-ray. He's in his early twenties, typical neighborhood redneck. He's got a through and through puncture wound in his foot, in the top and out the bottom, and the doc is trying to be sure that there is no visible foreign matter inside.
"So how'd you do that to your foot?" Neutral voice, neutral face. I wanted to know how the heck he managed this. I'd seen all sorts of funky wounds, but this was a new one.
I get something of a defensive look, but he decides I'm ok.
"You know how a lot of AK-47's have that folding spike bayonet?"
I nod. "Yup, seen those. SKS's have them too."
"Yeah. So me and some of my friends were down by the creek, shooting at cans and stuff, just kinda screwing around. My buddy called me over to help him with something, and there wasn't a tree to lean my rifle against, just sand, so I folded out the bayonet and went to just stick it in the ground and leave it there, and I , uh, I stuck it through my foot on accident."
My professionalism really kicked in. Poker face, belly muscles locked tight. I didn't laugh, although I know my mouth had to twitch. Still, I held it together pretty well, considering. I gave him neutral face and asked "Was there any alcohol involved?"
He gave something between a flinch and a twitch really quickly and looked up at me and after a long pause said, "We might have had a couple of beers." I imagine the Highway Patrol hears the same phrase in roughly the same tone.
I nod, holding it together still. I have a mental picture of this kid after a few beers and hitting a couple of joints screwing up and spiking his foot to the ground by accident, then yelling bloody murder as he dances in a circle. None of his buddies can immediately help him pull it out because they've all fallen down laughing at his dumb ass. I can just see it.
I park him back in a waiting room and take the films around to the doc. Our eyes meet and we both crack up.
It was perfect.