Things Couldn’t Possibly Get Worse
The mere utterance of the phrase is a virtual guarantee that things are about to go horribly wrong.
You’re hiking through the woods with a friend. You’re beginning to think you’ve lost your bearings and you’re uncertain of where you are. You having increasing suspicions that your friend’s cartography skills were exaggerated.
You transition from being uncertain of where you are to complete certainty you are lost. Nighttime is approaching, a thunderhead is gathering overhead, you’re friend has just stepped in a giant pile of bear crap, (which as much as it amuses you, is a tad alarming) and you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re friend’s cartography skills were wildly exaggerated.
As the first streak of lightning burns across the sky you’re friend turns to you and says, “well, things couldn’t possibly get worse.”
Without saying a word, you reach down and retrieve a stick from the forest floor. You study the stick for a moment, then pull out a jackknife and whittle the stick into a fine point.
You turn to your friend, pause for a moment as he anticipates what you’re going to doing, then you jab you’re friend in the eye with the stick.
“Things are worse now aren’t they,” you say triumphantly.
Your friend is a little angry, but you were just trying to prove a point…plus, it really irritated you when “Mr. Map Expert” referred to the contour lines on his topographical map as squigglies.
You crash through the forest in the darkness and pouring rain for an interminable amount of time, hopelessly lost and almost certain you’re being stalked by either a bear or bigfoot.
Luck finally smiles upon as you come across a country road and there’s a vehicle approaching. Your friend jumps into the road, waving his hands in an effort to gain the driver’s attention.
Your friend mistimes his leap into the road and is struck by the car. As it turns out, being blinded in one eye seriously reduces your depth perception.
Luck is a fickle bitch.
“I guess things couldn’t get worse,” you finally concede to your friend as he lies in the road in a whimpering mass.
The words have barely left your lips when a bear lurches from the trees and mauls your friend. Bigfoot just watches.
After a lengthy recovery period and extensive physical and mental therapy, your friend is fine.
On plus side, with all the scars on his face and the eyepatch, he looks like a real badass.
You’d tell him that, if you were still on speaking terms.