Kate and I hosted a remarkably busy night, notable for the overwhelming idiocy of the clientele. Same crap, different day.
The 17 year old boy walked in with his mother and stated, "I broke my hand".
Me: "What happened?"
"I got pissed off about some shit punched a fucking wall in school. I've done it before"
Me: "Charming". Note that it is 9 PM; the incident occurred at 1 PM.
Ten minutes later, a 15 year old girl comes in with HER mother with a similar hand injury.
"I punched a door"
What a delightful pair; I put them both in the waiting room until they had been xrayed since I had bigger fish to fry. Fish that didn't punch walls. The two apparently struck up an immediate and life long relationship based on their mutual interesting hobby of self-mutilation.
I overheard the boy: "Yeah, I came in for a cast"
Girl: "So, you broke your hand? What happened?"
Boy: " I punched a wall"
Girl: " Oh, weird. Me too!"
Boy: " Wow, we have a lot in common".
Me: (to myself) Please do not let them breed.
There were no broken bones, just to be clear. Now, where did I leave those fliers for anger management classes?