I first became famous when I was eight years old and my dad took me skiing at Lake Rochester with his old lady boss. my picture was on the front page of all the newspapers for miles around. And it wasn't because I was such a hot dog skier. The real story was that I took a dive out of the ski lift chair. Broke my right leg so bad they had to cut it off.
As far as prosthetics go, the one I picked out was the cheapest model on the planet. Mom and pretty much everyone else wanted to buy me a better one, but i wouldn't let them. What's the point? You could dress it up all you want, but a stump is a stump is a stump. I hated even putting it on, but Mom insisted. And she didn't think it was was funny at all when I took off my leg at school, put it in my locker, and then tied a rag around my stump with fake blood on it.
After that, thought, the kids at school pretty much knew if anyone was going to be cracking jokes about my leg, it was gonna be me.
