An "L" shaped scar on my thumb. It's about an inch long. I was slicing bread and the knife flexed and sliced into my thumb, creating a sort of flap of thumb. It was cool and all but it started to hurt, so I ran down to the nurses' station (I was working as a dietary aide in a nursing home at the time) and got it all patched up. They sent me home for the day, couldn't have a guy with a bloody thumb working with food, so it was awesome. I ended up stopping at the ER on the way home and got 4 stitches. As for that, I'd like to take a minute just sit right there, I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air. In West Philadelphia, born and raised, on the playground is where I spent most of my days. Chilling out, maxing and relaxing all cool and all shooting some b-ball outside of the school, when a couple of guys, they were up to no good, started making trouble in our neighborhood! I got in one little fight, and my mom got scared, she said "you're moving in with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air!" I whisted for a cab and when it came near, the license plate said "FRESH" and had dice in the mirror. If anything, I could say that this cab was rare but I thought "Nah, forget it, yo home, to Bel-Air!" I pulled up to a house about seven or eight, I yelled to the cabbie "Yo home, smell you later!" I looked at my kingdom, I was finally there to sit on my throne as the prince of Bel-Air.