Steve has 9 staples in his head. He brought the head stapler home from the hospital, in case he ever gets a head injury again (or in case I need to staple anyone's mouth shut). I have a picture, but I won't post it, because it's gross.
Steve was replacing rotting beams in our basement and got thrown backward by a 4x4 under pressure. Fortunately, his parents were here, so they were able to bandage his head and take him to the hospital. The Bairn hid under the table when Steve came up from the basement, because head wounds bleed a lot. It was a bit creepy.
Steve sent me strange text messages from the ER. Can you serve me some Spurgeon please? It turns out, though, that it was just poor texting and not the head injury. Should have read Can you save me some spaghetti please?