The other day Keith was supposed to go riding with Andy, one of his fellow interns. Andy was going to take him on a trail he'd never been on. Well, it turned out Andy couldn't go and so Keith took it upon himself to try and find the way himself, ending up on the wrong path and ultimately falling off his bike (almost down the side of a mountain). He ended up seriously gouging his knee and limping in the back gate all bloodied up. I almost had to take him to the hospital for stitches.
Then today Keith told me he really needed to get himself in shape and so was going on a more than thirty mile long mountain bike ride up "Puke Mountain" or some other such nonsense (because it's such a hard climb you want to puke) with some guys from work. He said he'd be home by six.
Well, 9:30 rolls around and still no Keith. "Maybe he got hurt?" I fleetingly thought to myself, then, "Nah."
No sooner had I thought that, then Keith staggered into the kitchen looking like Homer Simpson with a five o'clock shadow. "Geeze, how did you grow that beard in just one afternoon!" I exclaimed (it turned out to be dirt)!
Keith then proceeded to laughingly tell me how he was flying down the mountain at 35 mph and flew over his handlebars doing two flips and twists and flying fifteen feet down a cliff where he landed on a pile of twigs supposedly unscathed. "But I was totally fine," he protested when I fixed him with my evil eye. "No, but wait," he said. "I can't move my arm. Right after I got back on my bike I was going really slow and ran into a tree and hit my arm. Help me take my shirt off," he begged.
I then told Keith that I really don't want him going on any more crazy mountain bike rides and he said, "But the Karate Kid puts himself in danger!" You're no Karate Kid, Keith.
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