I got a phone call this afternoon from an unrecognized number in a South Western State. It is the state where one of my nephews lives. We are quite close.
When he was a teenager, I received the phone call from the hospital telling me he shattered his fibula while moto~cross riding; he said he was going to the beach. His parents were out of state at the time.
I also received the call from a major city police department at midnight. He was ejected from an NHL game and detained for reasons that remain unclear, though it's safe to say beer was involved. He tried to tell me he ate a bad hamburger. I smacked him. Then I smacked him again. I did not just fall off the turnip truck.
Today it was the South Western State Department of Corrections. My stomach bottomed out. "You have a close relative..." and I blurted out "My nephew XXX!!!???"
"Yes, he was in a fight and is in the hospital at the moment. He's okay....
"Jesus Christ, what happened???"
"Well, he was hit in the head with a crowbar...""
I got dizzy for a second and said, "OH MY GOD, A CROWBAR????""
That's when he cracked. He knew the crowbar was a weapon too far. He was laughing and I was cursing at him. There is a reason his pet name in the family is Baby Jackass.
I'm actually really proud of him. He moved all the way across the country, has a good job, a nice apartment share and is sky~diving every weekend. I miss that little shit.
eta: tell me about the Baby Jackass in your life :)