Blood and gore.
I wanted blood and gore, but I didn’t think it’d be mine.
Sitting in the suicide seats there is always a possibility
of being hit by a skater. I’ve never been hit, the camera has been pranged a
couple of times and I’ve had some close shaves but that is about it.
I thought the London Rockin’ Rollers Wreck league’s Halloween
bout would get me some good images, a throwback to the time when skaters
dressed up and the whole scene was more theatrical. It reminded me of my very
first bout, Leeds Roller Dolls against Sheffield Steel Rollergirls, Summer
Horror Day, where the Leeds team donned zombie face-paint and skated out, to
how I’d imagine dead people would skate. The only corpse I’ve ever heard of roller
skating is that of Elmer McCurdy, and I image he wasn’t too athletic. Just
rolling up and down the high street as the local kids pushed him along. I believe that past-times such as taking a
corpse for a stroll around your local park is now frowned upon for some reason.
I had never been hit by a skater until last weekend. I guess
it was bound to happen sooner or later, I’d grown to feel impervious, that for some
reason they’d always miss me. I was wrong. Luckily my cat-like reflexes kicked
in and my brain sought to protect my most valuable assets, my cameras, as the
skater slid ever closer. The impact pushed me backwards in to the wall where my
trailing arm cracked against the wall, shattering bone and spraying those close
by in a shower of blood. The arm nearly severed, hanging limp and useless. Okay,
that may be a lie, but it was a Halloween bout so a little exaggeration shouldn’t
go amiss. Luckily both I and the skater was fine. I did crack my elbow on the
wall during the impact but I didn’t even bruise, no evidence of my only Derby
injury!
Next time I see a skater come flying in my direction I may consider
moving, but then again, I’m just too lazy, I will just hope they miss me. And
if they don’t, well it’ll be another good story to tell.
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