I broke my leg this last week. I was quickly trying to shovel snow before work and I twisted weird and slipped. I heard a loud snap when I fell. I screamed so loud my wife inside heard and a neighbour came running over too.

The funny part is my broken leg was straight but my good leg was kind of twisted as I was trying to get up so the neighbour kept looking at my good leg and said it looked broken. I crawled to a dry part of my drive way because I didn’t want to try standing on the ice again. Our neighbor helped me into the car. While I was waiting in the car I was trying to email a co-worker but it took a while because I was almost blacking out so I had to keep talking to myself.
Anyways the doc said it was good break so they just had to put a cast on it and it should heal up well. The break is near the ankle. The cast will be on for 6 weeks.
That is the true boring story of how I broke my leg. Slipping on the ice makes me sound like a old geezer with brittle bones so my more preferred story is this:
I saw a little kid drowning in the river so I dove in to save him but the water was to shallow. I broke my leg but got the kid and fought the undercurrents of the fierce North Thompson River to bring the child to safety. The child happened to be the Queens third cousins great nephew twice removed. Needless to say the Queen will be knighting me as “The Great Sir Orlund of the North Thompson” and giving me a gold medal for bravery. I will also be on the front of the Times magazine for Man of the decade.
Hmm… a little untrue but I think it makes me sound a little more heroic.