By Felix Demarest, stabbing victim
I need help here. A few minutes ago, someone rammed a six-inch steak knife into my stomach. As you can imagine, this concerns me very much. Aside from the fact that this could cause a large variety of medical problems, it hurts like a bitch. Yes, it’s safe to say that this knife in my ribcage is a real thorn in my side.
Just to be clear, there is not a literal thorn in my side. During a medical emergency such as this one, it is important to not confuse metaphors with actual medical facts. The fact is that there is a knife sticking out of my ribcage, not a thorn. The “thorn” is in my side, but it is not even a real thorn; it is just a figure of speech, a way of saying that I am not pleased with my current situation. And just to restate it one more time, the situation that I’m referring to is the fact that I have a knife sticking out of my ribcage. Not a thorn.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think it would be very pleasant if I were to have a thorn in my side either. That’s why I said that having a knife stuck in my ribcage is a real thorn in my side. Am I not being clear? If not, I apologize. If I’m not being clear, it’s probably because I just got stabbed with a steak knife, so I can no longer afford the luxury of proper word choice. I mean, I’m bleeding to death here, so this is no time to be focused on semantics. But just in case I lose consciousness and you choose to speak to the guy who will load me into the back of the ambulance, let him know that I have a knife sticking out of my ribcage. He’ll probably notice it, but I’d appreciate it if you tell him anyway. Don’t even mention the thorn because, so far, it has caused nothing but confusion.
May 1, 2004