Omg

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Okay so one day, I was at my local park. The place where everything wrong happens. I swear, in the next few stories, this park will be there. It's bad luck.
Me and my friends were obsessed with this girl named Katiegotbandz, so we were screaming her name repeatedly.
Just "KADIE, KADIE, KADIE, KADIEGOTBANDZ, WE BE IN DA FIELD BITCH!" All that shit. So I was going down the slide and I felt a slight push, and boom. I landed on my arm.
Now, I was hoping that pop wasn't my phone. Thankfully it wasn't because I had a Nokia. Other than that, HOLY SHIT, MY ARM IS BACKWARD! So the friends I were with hadn't noticed it was backward but I was crying so hard and screaming.
So the girl grabs me by my broken arm and tries to help me up, and I literally feel my arm out of socket. She immediately dropped it, making the pain worse. My other friend was barfing and she put a blanket over my arm so she wouldn't have to see. So I'm like
"CALL MY MOM! CALL 911!" And kids started to wander out their houses to crowd around me. Nosy ass people.
So my friend grabbed her phone and like dials a whole bunch of random numbers while I'm screaming. When she had the phone up to her ear, she says
"What's the number?" Now I thought I had a retarded friend, but she actually meant my mom. So I told her the number after she contacted the ambulance. Before she even hung up, my mom was there. She lifted the blanket and nearly passed out. We now had a crowd watching. The ambulance came and groped my arm so hard, they probably broke it a second time. So, we went to the hospital gave me some medicine, was high af.
"Spoons are just bowls on sticks." I told my mom. She looks at me like, how the fuck high is my kid?
I didn't even know why they gave me the medicine, but when they came in, they positioned my arm back in place and the medicine did nothing for the pain. I screamed so loud, the whole hospital heard me.
So like when it was fixed, I went to school and every kid, except the one who pushed me down asked about it. Yet no one signed it, like wth...

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