The Vacations of Doom Part 1: My Mother Scares Children

My family used to go to Maryland each summer for two weeks of sun, ocean, and mini-golf.  There was a streak of at least three summers, however, when it wasn't all fun and games.  Those three summers tended to bring strange injuries and usually ambulances.  This is what I believe to be the story of the final summer, by which time my mother had apparently become immune to pain in Maryland.  Hopefully the other stories will be told in time.

My mother always enjoyed going for walks while in Maryland.  One day, however, everything went more than a little wrong.

From the tone of her voice, I stood up to help her expecting a small, run-of-the-mill scratch.  Alas, it was not to be.

I don't think that was the minor injury that ended up requiring stitches, but I'm not sure.  I would also like to add that I'm pretty sure there was actually that much blood on her shirt.  I feel so bad for that little kid, standing in an elevator with a perfectly calm woman drenched in blood in an area near her mouth.  I think that the thoughts "VAMPIRE!" and "WEREWOLF!" must have sprinted back and forth across his brain several times.