"I think you're finally starting to get the hang of this whole writing-with-your-left-hand thing," Kyle picked himself off Stan's floor and handed him back his paper , "I got the same thing for number 17."

"You really think my left-handed writing is getting better?"

"Defiantly, dude. Compared to about 7 weeks ago, this looks fantastic."

Stan flipped his notebook back a few pages to look at some writing from a few weeks ago.

"Wow… It does look good compared to that, I guess."

"I think it almost looks better than your right-handed writing," Kyle laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Stan whirled around in his chair and narrowed his eyes, "I have good handwriting!"

"Good compared to what? The way Kenny scribbles?" He laughed harder.

"Well, that's better than someone; isn't it?!" Stan yelled.

"Dude, a chicken's handwriting is probably better than yours," Kyle antagonized.

"Alright! That's it!" Stan lunged out of his chair and tackled Kyle onto his bed, wrestling him into a choke hold with his right arm.

"Jesus, Stan!" Kyle coughed, "I take it back! I take it back!"

Stan loosend his grip.

"So how's my handwriting, Kyle?" He asked again.

"Worse than Kenny's!" Kyle giggled as he struggled out of Stan's grip and pulled him into a reversal.

The two boys wrestled off the bed onto the floor and continued for several minutes.

"Okay… Okay...," Stan panted, "Maybe my handwriting isn't that good," he let go of Kyle and sat up against the wall.

"It's alright, dude. I was just giving you a bad time…," Kyle huffed, pulling himself next to Stan.

Kyle spoke after the two had regained their breath, "After that I'd say your wrist is feeling pretty good, right?"

"Yeah! I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow; I might be able to get this stupid cast off!" Stan beamed.

"Oh, yeah! I forgot you said that yesterday."

"Kyle!" Sharon called from downstairs.

"Yeah?" Kyle yelled back.

"Your mom called and said you need to be home for dinner in about 10 minutes!"

"Okay. Thanks, Mrs. Marsh!"

Kyle stood up and adjusted his clothes, "What time is your appointment?"

"It's in the morning so I probably won't be at school tomorrow."

"Dang…"

Stan stood up and adjusted his clothes as well, "Come over after school tomorrow, I should be home by then. Okay?

"Alright, dude." Kyle moved toward the door, "Good luck!"

"Thanks."

"Well, Stanley," the doctor walked back into the exam room with a fresh set of X-rays, "It looks like that bone is all healed up. Does it hurt at all?"

"No, it hasn't hurt in a while," Stan remarked.

"Then I think we're ready to get that thing off! I'll just grab my tools and you should be out of here soon," he stepped out of the room.

"You hear that, Stan? You get your cast off!" Sharon smiled.

Stan could not help being a little excited.

A few moments later, the doctor entered the room with some sort of big vacuum looking machine.

"Uh… What's that?" Stan asked staring at the almost-intimidating machine.

"It's a medical saw; I'm going to use it to cut through the hard layer of your cast to get it off!"

"A – a saw…?" Stan seemed a little nervous.

"It won't hurt you," he reassured, "the blade is pretty much just a dull disc that's good at cutting through casts and nothing else, see?" The doctor turned on the machine and held the blade to his arm, nothing happened.

"Alright," Stan felt better.

"This shouldn't take long. Just hold still," He sawed Stan's cast into two pieces and it came right off.

Stan looked down at his slightly discolored, semi-flaky lower arm as he flexed his newly-freed right wrist, "Gross…"

"Your skin should return to normal after a few days, nothing abnormal there," the doctor began, "Just make sure you take it easy with that wrist for a while. Since you haven't been using it for almost eight weeks the muscles around it are going to be weak and will need to be built back up again before they're fully back to normal… If you get too rough too soon you'll be right back here and will probably need something more than a cast next time – like surgery. Okay?"

Stan nodded his head quickly, thoroughly afraid of the repercussions.

"I suppose there's only one last thing to do here," he turned to Stan.

Stan looked at him questioningly.

"You just need to decide if you want to keep a part of your cast to remember this or not," he chuckled.

Stan looked at his mom, seeking an opinion.

"It's up to you, honey."

Stan examined the two pieces on the table closely before picking one up.

"I'll take this half."

"Alright, Stanley, Sharon; you should be good to go."

"Thanks – Thanks a lot, doctor," Stan and Sharon said in unison.

"You're welcome! Just remember to be careful, Stanley. You're a nice kid and all, but I don't want to see you back here anytime soon," he smiled as he exited the room.

"I will…," Stan sighed.

Knock, Knock, Knock

Sharon opened up the door and was quickly greeted by Kyle.

"Hey, Mrs. Marsh!"

"Stan's up in his room, Kyle," she opened the door wider, knowing exactly who the fourth grader was looking for.

"Thanks!" Kyle hurried up the stairs to Stan's room.

He knocked on the door once before letting himself in.

"Hey, dude!" Kyle greeted, excitedly.

"Hey!" Stan spun around in his desk chair.

Kyle's attention immediately turned to the other boy's discolored, generally odd looking – but not casted – lower right arm.

"Dude! What happened to your arm?!"

"I got my cast off!" Stan replied happily.

"No. I mean, why is it all, like, weird?"

"There's been a cast covering it for almost eight weeks, Kyle… The skin should be back to normal in a few days but it may take longer for the muscles to get back to where they were since I wasn't using it."

"I suppose that makes sense…," Kyle let it go.

"So, how does it feel to have that thing off?"

"It feels fantastic!" Stan stood up and extended his right hand to Kyle in a handshake-like motion.

Kyle gripped it and gave it a firm shake as both boys laughed.

"So, I read about how they take those things off with a saw; did it hurt?" Kyle asked.

"No. It didn't hurt at all, surprisingly. The blade is really dull or something."

"Oh, cool!"

"Yeah," Stan replied.

"The only thing I was wondering is; what do they do with the cast once they cut it off?"

"Well I actually decided to keep a part of it so I'll always remember this," Stan walked over to his dresser and pointed to half of his cast.

"Why would you possibly want to remember something like breaking your wrist?" He questioned, walking to the dresser beside Stan.

Kyle examined the piece of Stan's cast and saw it was the side he had signed his name on nearly eight weeks ago.

"Because it wasn't all bad," Stan smiled as he slung his arm around his super best friend.