Day 149

I once had a part time job working in a soft play facility based in Dartford. Mothers would book two hour birthday parties for their children who without fail were named either Connor, Blake or Grace. My responsibility there was to encourage the little savages to stop beating each other with ball pond balls and instead behave nicely on the disease-ridden play equipment, whilst making a hideous mess all down themselves with party food. However I never could actually complete my job, as I was always busy farming herds of witless parents around the kitchen area so that they could sufficiently deplete the company's tea and coffee supplies.
On one such occasion whilst up to my elbows in Nescafé, one of the monstrous women demanded I stop serving the whining adults and orchestrate a game of Musical Chairs for her spoilt offspring instead. Reluctantly I trundled round to the games area which was essentially just a carpeted section absolutely swamped in Fairy Liquid that drizzled pathetically from the gunged up bubble machine.
The whole establishment was a disaster waiting to happen and it was during this fateful game of Musical Chairs that my disaster befell me.
Whilst stooping to pluck the tiny chairs away one by one, I slipped on a congealed dollop of bubbly carpet discharge and flew violently towards a door frame. With no free hands to protect myself, my shoulder latched on to the frame whilst my body continued through the doorway, wrenching my bones apart and severely dislocating my shoulder.
For the next several minutes I lay on the floor in excruciating agony. The kids continued to circle the seats oblivious to the music no longer pausing and the parents simply looked down at me as if I were introducing a contemporary dance element into the game.
Eventually I jolted the arm into a relatively pain-free situation and muddled through the rest of the party, albeit at limited capacity and without any sympathy.

Later, surgeons at the hospital stretched surrounding muscle over the gap between the bones and permanently pinned them in place, meaning I would forever walk the Earth with titanium in my body, causing me to develop my own comic-book alter-ego TitaniArm - but that's another story.
For Day 149 of my THREEHUNDREDANDSIXTEEFIVE challenge I am wearing a T-shirt that depicts the extent of the surgery I would have needed had the game been Pass The Parcel, which is especially violent even when it goes to plan.
An impressively elaborate illustration drawn in a street-art inspired style shows an exposed human torso made entirely from robotic parts dons the entire canvas of this T-shirt, given to me as a gift from my wife acquired on her travels around China last year.