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Chronicle of My Knee
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Chronicle of My Knee
by Jeff Rogers
I devised a plan to get rid of my knee. Do away with it once and for all. It was offensive to me. It creaked. Sometimes it popped. It seemed a misshapen thing, ugly as a cinder block. It wasn't smoot and graceful, like the calf below it, or thick and mighty, like the thigh above.
I developed a complex machine, with winches and pulleys and levers and a trough, to remove it when it wasn't looking. And when I had dispatched it, I replaced it with a lovely Chinese bowl, painted with tranquil scenes of peasants fishing on a mountain lake.
I wrapped the knee in the Sunday funnies and mailed it to a one crossroads town in northern Michigan. I changed the locks on my doors, got a new phone number, so it wouldn't find me.
But I grew aware of just what a clever joint the knee is. So I changed my name, got plastic surgery, dyed my hair, grew a mustache, sent word to my family and moved to another country.
I believe that at last I may be safe...
