A guy I know recently managed (in a very hysterical, embarrassing manner which he requested I not divulge) to pop off his finger (did I mention he did it in a very funny yet idiotic way?). Now, in hindsight, he’s pretty embarrassed for being such a jackass (have I mentioned I laughed so hard tears came to my eyes and he, ineffectually due to some wind shear issues, tried to slap me back to some manner of not pissing my pants). The problem is, since his visit to the emergency room, everyone has wanted to know how he dinged his digit.
And that makes him sad.
I think my reaction may have something to do with it (but, come on! I’m only human and this is some funny shit). So he wants me to come up with a plausible, potentially heroic, manner in which he flopped his finger.
I think for a second and say, because his family had a hard time keeping food on the table and a roof over their heads, he’s worked every day since childhood. Oh sure, you would have liked to have swept floors or mined varicose veins for old ladies but who’d hire a six year old other than shady companies that run clandestine medical experiments!
I Was An Elementary School Medical Guinea Pig!
“I don’t know.”
“No! It’s perfect.” I say knowing it’s no such thing.
I tell him that, although some of his ‘testing’ was quite invasive, it was the last test that finally made him run screaming from the cold, filthy laboratory.
“Here’s where you really have to sell it.” I tell him. “You have to say is, ‘I had to rub this solution on my finger. It was supposed to remove warts but it removed my entire finger!’ Then hold you hand up, displaying the space for a moment before making a fist and scream, ‘Damn you, Compound V!'”
We sit there in silence (even though in my head I’m still laughing. But now I’m not sure if it’s the vision of him projecting his protuberance or because I can see my vision unfolding). I can tell he’s not sure he can pull that off so offer a gentle persuasion.
“What else ya got, Garcia?”
(for those who don’t get the last reference, Jerry Garcia, a noted dead guy, lost a finger although I doubt he did it in such an amusing manner as this guy)
Epilogue: turns out he called me all kinds of unkind names and left the area I was inhabiting perturbed.
He was unkind to me, can you believe that shit? We all know how sensitive I am to hurtful words. And I really didn’t swear on anything that I wouldn’t disclose the manner in which he so ridiculously redesigned his finger pointing. Oh, my, my, my! What to do? Oh, what to do?
Ha. You know me, I’m giving it up. Fuck him and his not seeing a (not actually) perfect story (but Compound V is pretty funny)!
He was roughhousing with some friends and it got a little out of hand, as those things are wont to do. When his friends are leaving he decided to make his displeasure with one particular participant duly noted. So, instead of sticking his hand through the open car window, he decided to give the guy the finger via the open, yet soon to be closed door.
When the finger popped off, as you’d expect, there was confusion followed by much trashing and screaming. In the confusion, when they began to load No Finger in the car, the unattached adornment fell out.
They drove to the emergency room and, once there, were asked if anyone had the finger. Whoops! They ran back to the blood soaked vehicle but couldn’t find it. So drove back to the scene of the fucking funn. . .oh, sorry, bad incident. But nothing could be found. I figure a dog ate it or a small child was using it to pick his nose but only because I like happy endings.
It turns out, even if they’d found it, it probably couldn’t have been reattached do to the damage done to the bones and all the other things you keep inside your hand.
The moral of the story? If you come to me looking for a story, even if you don’t like it, it’s better to appease me and walk away swiftly then to make crinkly expressions right to my face! Because, in my distraught state, I may blurt out what you’ve requested quiet due to my severe depression at being horribly misunderstood.