"Ow!" you exclaim. Your arm feels funny and you don't think you've ever felt like that before. The front and sides of the bus were clearly damaged, and the parents were trying to make sure that their children were ok.
The bus driver quickly starts issuing instructions, telling people to get off of the bus. As we disembarked, we could see emergency vehicles pulling up to the accident site. "Is anybody injured?" asked a fire marshal.
"My arm is hurting," I said. Even though my head was hurting, too, I didn't mention it. The marshal came up to me to take a look at my arm. "Ow!" I cried out again as he examined me.
"Right," the fire marshal said. "I'm going to have to take a closer look at that arm."
It seemed that every time I moved my arm, I felt pain, so I told him so. "I don't think I can move it, sir."
"We'll have to get that shirt off of you," he said quietly, thinking to himself.
"Excuse me?" I asked. Never mind that I couldn't move my arm well enough to get it through the sleeve of my shirt, we were in a public area, surrounded by kids, and there were more people arriving on the scene. More cops and emergency services. Even worse, news vans.
"I'll have to cut that shirt open so I don't aggravate your injury and get a closer look at your arm. Are you wearing a bra under your shirt?"
Copyright 2000 - 2025 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.17 seconds at 4:03pm on Apr 20, 2025 via server WEBX2.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
