The father of slapstick

I don't know who invented slapstick, but they must have either been in a wheelchair, preferably with FA, or had a sibling, friend or enemy in a wheelchair.

Or maybe they just watch my morning routine. Because am an effing riot, unless I die or have to go to the hospital, then it isn't so funny.

I slipped this morning, giving my wheelchair another chance to violate me. I responded rather violently to this rear assault, flipping 180 degrees off that wheelchair arm and coming down on the other arm on my chest. Actually, I landed on the joystick and finally had a little luck. Dad had re-covered the joystick a few weeks ago, so I fell on one of those big green erasers. Otherwise, I'd have fallen on a thin metal stick and that would not have been funny, really.

As I was introducing my chest to a big green eraser, my legs were trying to find purchase on the floor, but they couldn't. I just kept slipping, and I think I must have looked like Coyote when he chases RoadRunner off a cliff. He just runs in place for a minute, then plummets.

As my legs were pumping, I noticed a grab bar within reach, but my arm was like a candle flame in a breeze, just bouncing all over the place. It was pathetic. I don't know whether it was the pressure of the moment or of the big green eraser or the pain in my forearm from smacking during some part of the fall.

I don't really remember how I got up: maybe me feet found solid foundation or I grabbed the bar finally or maybe Buffy the Vampire Slayer burst in saved me and then threw herself at me. Probably not that last one, though.