About a week ago, I received a mysterious phone call from a man saying that Sage had sustained a broken arm and would be unable to write for the near future. There was basically no information given other than that and the phone number was blocked on my caller ID. Since I did not hear from Sage after that, I have to presume that what I was told was true.
Two nights ago, I actually got a (rare) phone call from the man himself, who gave me the full story on how he broke his arm. With that information behind me, I thought it would be fun to ask the Eye on Soaps staff how exactly THEY thought Sage broke his arm. At the end of this column, of course, I will (with his permission) tell you what really happened and we will laud the one who came closest to the truth.
Sage was on his way to the liquor store to get some Captain Morgan. He wanted to celebrate the opening of the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie. As he was passing through a remote part of town, he saw someone walking by the side of the road. The flowing locks and denim-encased ass pleasantly reminded him of Coleman. He slowed to a stop and offered the gentleman a ride. Much to his surprise, it was Blake Gibbons!! Blake accepted his offer and got into the passenger seat. Sage’s heart was now pounding. Playing it cool, he asked Blake where he wanted to go. He said he was on a quest for a good bottle of rum.
Sage took a deep breath, remaining calm. He said he was on a similar quest as well. Casually, he asked if Blake’s purchase was in anticipation of entertaining a young lady tonight. Blake didn’t speak for a few moments, then he smirked. “A woman? No.” Blake threw Sage an unnerving look. Sage gripped the steering wheel. It couldn’t be…could it?
The car hurtled on towards it’s goal as the passengers sat in silence. Blake tapped his finger against the dashboard. “So man, you seen the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie, yet?”
Sage almost wept. He couldn’t believe this was happening. “I’m planning to go tonight.” He smiled at Blake, working up the nerve to ask him if he wanted to go.
Blake’s eyes widened in horror as he looked out the window. “Jesus Christ, that’s a head!!!!”
Sage quickly brought his eyes back to the road and sure enough – something was rolling out into the middle of the road. Jamming on the breaks, he swerved to avoid the object. Losing control of the car, he ran off the road and hit a telephone pole. Fortunately a carful of clean-cut all-American teenagers had been driving behind Sage, so they called 911. Once they performed this public service, they came over to Sage’s car, laughing hysterically. “Dude! You totaled your car because of this??”
One of them held up a spherical item. Amidst the mind-numbing pain shooting up his arm, Sage was able to discern that it was, indeed, as Blake had exclaimed. It was a head. The Head. Sage looked over at Blake, who had been knocked unconscious by the impact. He knew instinctively that he would not be enjoying the swaggering antics of Captain Jack with Blake tonight. He would, however, make sure there was lots and lots of Captain Morgan.
And revenge. Sweet… final… devastating… revenge.
How did Sage break his arm, you ask?
Well, it all started with a bad hair day...
Sage woke up after a good, long sleep, refreshed and excited to get to his computer to type all about the latest ABC Soap goings-ons. So with a smile in his steps, he bounded to the shower to begin his day with a nice, invigorating shower. He hummed the theme from "My Fair Lady" as he dried off and prepared to get dressed.
Upon looking outside, however, his mood became as dark and damp as the weather. Overcast, and with that sort of wet, strangling, horrible, muggy heat equaled bad hair, in Sage's equation. Sighing, he ran a comb through his hair, and did his best to ensure that the day's soggy weather wouldn't interfere with the awesomeness of his sleek, fabulous hair.
"Curses!", thought Sage as he lumbered into his kitchen to start a kettle for some morning tea. He stuck a bagel into his newly bought bagel toaster, and in doing so, remembered that the day he bought the toaster, he had also stopped by a new, chic salon and had bought a product guaranteed to stop frizz and fly-aways.
Struck by hope, he immediately began searching through his bathroom closet. He knew it had to be there, and yet, after hunting through various leave-ins and new-age remedies guaranteed to stop dry scalp, he still couldn't find it.
Suddenly, the faint scent of smoke curled into his nostrils.
"Crap! The bagel!"
Rushing downstairs to his kitchen, he was horrified to see that his brand new, high end bagel toaster was issuing forth billows of black smoke, and just the tiniest licks of orange flame.
Thanking Goddess that he'd had the fortitude to keep a small fire extinguisher in the kitchen for emergencies such as this, he ran to his kitchen closet, whipped open the door, and ...
...screamed like Fay Wray as The Head flew towards him, suspended on a string, its toothy gape seemingly coming for him. It hit Sage squarely in the face, and he grabbed it to find attached to the bottom of a sheet of paper, upon which was written in big, block, black letters, "Gotcha!"
Hearing the sound of a fire extinguisher going off, he turned around to see Kurt smothering the flames, and laughing like mad, with tears in his eyes.
"Dude!! You should've seen yourself!" Kurt choked out between sobs of laughter, as he shot the toaster with an undulant stream of white foam. "You came running down stairs with big eyes, and you were all like 'Whoa!' and then you went running to the closet, screamed, and about peed yourself! What took you so long upstairs anyway?? I stuck a piece of paper in there when you went running upstairs, and figured you'd be right back. Another 10 seconds of waiting on your ass, I would have had to put the fire out and ruin the surprise!"
He set down the extinguisher, and wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, added, "I'm serious, guy -- that was quite possibly the funniest thing ever."
Sage, surveyed his kitchen and noted the nasty, dingy foam that covered his now-ruined, new bagel toaster, and most of his kitchen. He took in the dingy grey smoke that continued to curl along the once-white ceiling. He smelled the sour odors of burnt plastic and chemicals. And damn it -- his hands went up to his hair to feel that despite his best efforts, he was now sporting a do that even Carrot Top would envy.
His eyes rested back upon Kurt once again, who was still laughing, pointing, and giggling.
Snapping all at once, Sage whispered, "I'm going to kill you."
"He-he-he..what did you say, good buddy??"
A little louder now, "I'm going to kill you.", repeated Sage.
Taking in Sage's rigid stance, wild hair, and eyes that shone with the light of a thousand demons, Kurt sobered up and stuttered out a weak, "Wha-..what?"
"I mean it, Kurt. You're going to die. Now."
Suddenly, the silence was rent by the screaming of Sage's tea kettle, and with that, Sage took off like a rocket towards Kurt, arms and hands outstretched, while Kurt stood there, eyes wide, mouth open, and not quite sure if Sage meant his threat or not.
But, we'll never know the answer to that, folks. Because as Sage ran towards Kurt, he slipped on some of that white, slippery foam. As he was falling, his arms flung out, one connecting with a nearby countertop, There was a sickeningly sharp sounding CRACK, followed immediately by Sage uttering a particularly choice swear word, and then there was a dull THUD as Sage hit his kitchen floor, down and out, and already secretly plotting to have hired thugs break EVERY single one of Kurt's various appendages.
And that, my friends, is how Sage broke his arm.
He was attacked at the grocery store by a roving band of Scientologists.
He fell off his roof.
He went hiking with Dick Cheney and we all know how damn dangerous that man is on a vacation!
The Media Ho:
"Aarrrggh, me mateys," roared Sage, dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow and waving a bottle of Captain Morgan Spiced Rum, "it's time we take a sail in me own version of The Black Pearl!" Squinting off into the distance, he could see the steam rising from his beloved hot tub -- recently christened "The Black Pearl" -- with a few occupants already enjoying the balmy waves. Sage took a long pull on the bottle of Captain Morgan as he neared The Black Pearl, and the sight of those inside made him pull off his eyepatch and rub his eyes in disbelief. Already bobbing up and down were Johhny Depp, Stephen Nichols, Blake Gibbons and Josh Duhamel. "Aaarrggh," shouted our hero, "It's some mighty tasty waves ahead of me!" With another pull on the bottle, Sage flipped down his eye patch and ran full-tilt-boogie towards The Black Pearl. As he was running up the gangplank, all in the tub rose to greet him, and Sage went into a full swoon at the sight of this Full Monty, promptly crashing off the gangplank, breaking his arm and falling into unconsciousness.
To make matters worse, no one would believe him when he spun his tale of Depp, Nichols, Gibbons and Duhamel.
Masturbating. 'Nuff said.
Sage was enjoying a little nekid hot tub time, reached for his Go-Cup of Captain Morgan, slipped on Mortimer, the rubber ducky and cracked his poor arm on the life sized cut-out of Captain Jack Sparrow on his deck. Luckily in his youth, Sage was a Boy Scout and has never forgotten their motto of "Be Prepared" Because of that tennent, he wears one of those life alert transponder thingies which promptly summoned the paramedics to his home. One of the EMT's, a 26 year old hunka hunka and notorious flirt, took one look - did a double take and on the spot most generously offered to stop by several times a week to help our hero out with a sponge bath. I'm still not sure it wasn't planned all along!
Sage relaxed against the edge of the hot tub and contemplated the last couple swallows in the bottle of Captain Morgan. His birthday celebration hadn’t gone as planned but at least the good Captain hadn’t deserted him. “Here’s to aging well,” Sage toasted himself and swallowed the remaining drink. He leaned back with his eyes closed until he heard a strange hissing sound. It was just a little hissing sound but it was an out of the ordinary hissing sound, not a jump out of the tub scared hissing sound but a little annoying hissing sound. So he gave it the attention it deserved, casually slitted his eyes and glanced around. Yep, an ordinary soak in the hot tub except for the cloud that was coming out of the now empty bottle of Captain Morgan. Sage opened his eyes a wider, then a lot wider. The cloud had shaped itself into a genie. Sage quickly decided he was drunk because otherwise he’d have to deal with the fact there was a really BIG guy with a sword hovering over him. Great abs though. Sage wondered if he would talk like Robin Williams.
Cleaning his throat and crossing his arms the genie spoke. “It’s about time you finished that bottle of Captain Morgan! I thought I’d never get outta there. So whatcha want? You know the deal. Genie – me. Three wishes – you.
Sage, articulate as ever, managed, “Whaa?”
The genie began muttering to himself. “Of every bottle on every shelf I end up with a guy in a hot tub who can’t formulate words. That’s what I get for being a liquor genie. I thought an eternity of soaking in rum would be my wish come true. I shoulda been a cleaning bottle genie, I woulda been out more. Ah, the things I gotta go through just to grant a couple wishes. Making people happy sucks. People think it’s so easy, hide in a bottle, puff out, scare the poor sucker to death and then try to make them think of a wish.” He switched his attention back to Sage. “Well? You ready yet? C’mon, surely you can think of three wishes.”
Sage was…adjusting. A genie for his birthday. No one would believe him but who cared? There was a genie hanging out on the side of the tub! Wishes, he needed wishes. Suddenly he focused on what the genie was telling him.
“…and don’t be asking for world peace or no more violence or feed all the children. I am a genie not God. The wishes have to be about you.”
Sage was catching on, “Gotcha. Wishes. Lemme think….” Being a practical guy, Sage wished for enough money to live comfortably as long as he lived including taking care of his mother’s expenses no matter what they might be.
The genie snapped his fingers, “Done.”
Sage looked around and saw nothing different. “Where is it?” he asked.
Sarcastically the genie rolled his eyes and replied, “In the bank, Oh Doubtful One. Cash doesn’t fit in a bottle.”
“Oh,” Sage responded wondering how the genie knew his account number. Next, Sage wished for good health until it was his time to die no diseases or chronic, painful conditions like arthritis.
The genie snapped his fingers again. “Done.”
Sage figured he’d just have to believe that one would happen, only time would tell.
Practicalities out of the way, Sage decided that since he was a soapy kind of guy, he’d wish to find the love of his life.
The genie nodded and snapped his fingers one last time before he and his cloud disappeared. Scrambling out of the tub, Sage slipped and fell hitting his arm. He heard the crack and knew it was broken. “Hey,” he yelled to the air, “you promised health! And where is the love of my life?!”
A voice whispered back, “You said diseases or chronic, painful conditions. Broken arm on a hot tub doesn’t count. You said “find” the love of your life. Gotta loooook.” And the voice faded away.
Sage was beginning to feel pain. Making his way into the house he called for an ambulance and awkwardly pulled on some sweats. No need to be the story of the evening as the naked man with a broken arm. Wanting to be ready, he locked up the house and sat on his front porch to wait for the ambulance. The pain steadily increased so he distracted himself by trying to remember what he’d have to do because he knew he’d be out of commission for a couple weeks. After a while he passed out. He woke in the ambulance to see two gorgeous faces leaning over him, stroking his arm soothingly and saying, “Just rest, we’ll take care of you.” Sage felt himself beginning to slip away again. He fought unconsciousness wanting to remember the best faces he’d ever seen and then in one of those odd out of sync moments asked the EMT to call Katrina and tell her what had happened to him. No need to bring up the genie, no one would believe it anyway.
And that is how Sage broke his arm and a mysterious man called Katrina to tell her what had happened. As for the three wishes, well…we shall wait and see. Heck, he’d already seen two gorgeous faces. It was a place to start.
The Real Story
I know Sage will probably be posting his own narrative on what happened, but for now, I can give you a brief low down based on what he told me.
Although I know he will be highly appreciative of the wonderful ideas presented here, the truth is slightly more mundane, or at least the part he told me was.
Sadly, according to Sage, the lovely drop top Impala I have coveted for 5 years now is no more. Although details were not forthcoming (as I said, I am sure you will get them later), it is my understanding that a scene very much like the "Bad Moon Rising" bit from "The Big Lebowski" ensued (I suggest Blockbuster or Netflix), resulting with that beautiful piece of machinery being wrapped around a good sized tree and Sage ending up in the hospital for a couple of days. He took a pretty good knock on the head, a slight burn to his thigh and fractured the tibia and fibula of his right arm. He will be in a cast for at least another month, at which time, he will have another x-ray and the degree of bone knitting determined. At that time, he will have a better idea of how soon he can get back to his keyboard and his columns.
Meanwhile, I had a blast reading the staff speculation and hope you did as well.