I Fall Down, Go "Boom!"

Aunt Pillowhead fell down the stairs last night.

It looked just like the photo on the left, but for a few minor details. Namely, Aunt Pillowhead:

• Is not twenty-something, but older than that
• Was not in an evening dress, but ratty PJs
• Was not feet down/head up, but head down/feet up
• Wore her hair not swept back from her brow, elegant and shiny, but more dandelion-esque and a little on the dry side
  
• Was not experiencing the event in classic black and white, but in modern living color
• Looked less as though she were fleeing her sinister beau and more like she was running down to her office to get her purse
• Was not on a formal, dramatic, curved staircase made of marble, but five carpeted steps that go from the kitchen to the downstairs
  
• Was not looking wistfully off to her left, but (with a quite surprised expression) straight up at the ceiling
• Did not have her hand on the banister
  
• Was not wearing shoes

And today Aunt Pillowhead has a bruise the size of Milwaukee on her left butt cheek. And it makes her sad and cranky. It also makes sitting, a usually painless activity, really uncomfortable.

And she's keeping her distance from anyone who might just set her off tonight.