And threatened with bodily harm.
I laughed in his face.
"Bring it."
Except severed fingers on my desk is kind of a disturbing thought.
Yesterday I climbed into a car with a few of my co-workers and we headed to the gas station for a quick drink run. We'd hit the afternoon lull and needed a pick me up.
(A pick us up?)
As I climbed out of the front passenger seat I threw my door shut and then...
I was stuck.
My index finger of my right hand had some how become lodged between the two doors in the process of us closing them.
I stared at my finger crushed in the crevice of the doors and felt the pressure and I glanced at the others.
They were blissfully unaware and were starting to walk to the gas station. I did the only rational thing I could do in this situation and started yelling, "Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow!"
That got their attention.
I looked at the co-worker who had closed the back door that had trapped my finger.
"The door, the door, open the door, open the door!" I cried. I couldn't get any other logical thing out of my mouth. My finger was beginning to pulse and I might have panicked a little.
Just a little.
Finally he realized that my elbow wasn't tweaked up in the air for the fun of it and rushed to open the door and release the car's grip on me.
My finger throbbed and grew hot.
And I repeatedly told them I was fine though I was struggling not to cry.
You can't cry when you're the only girl.
That makes you the silly girl.
My finger swelled to twice the size and looked like a little sausage. There was no feeling to it on the outside, though there was plenty of feeling to it on the inside.
I continued to assure them that I was fine.
Last night Cali complained of a stomach ache.
(This ties in, trust me.)
And then Brynn complained of one.
In the middle of the night Tayler also complained of stomach pain.
So when my alarm went of this morning I called in with sick kids, figuring with three of them I should stay home.
I sent an email letting various people in my office know I would be home with sick children, but if a certain co-worker asked, to let him know that I was out with a hurt finger.
(See? It tied in.)
He's the prankster of the group. It's fun to prank a prankster.
Turns out this morning the girls woke up and felt fine after all.
So I sent them to school and headed in to work.
Turns out the office had played my hurt finger off well. One person telling him my finger had been hurt so badly I had to stay home. The chief investigator told him that because it had happened in a State vehicle he needed a memo explaining what had happened.
He was feeling pretty bad and agreed quickly to write a memo about it.
Then he was called into the Director's office.
He began to understand what was happening at this point and after the Director mentioned it, said that I had been speaking badly about the Director so he slammed my finger in the door. He said I'd deserved it.
And the Director actually believed him for a split second.
My co-worker said he knew where this was coming from and not to worry, I still had nine fingers left that he could go after.
When I arrived at the office he smiled at me and said he knew someone and had access to cadaver parts.
Don't be surprised if I find extra fingers lying around.
The moral of this story is: it may be fun to prank a prankster but be warned, it only fuels them.
The rest of my birthday was fun.
Aside from the creepy gas station clerk who called me Padawan (is it bad that I know that's from Star Wars?) and then sang the afro circus song to me while dancing.
I just wanted to pay for my drink.
And he was egged on by my co-workers who told him while doing this that it was my birthday.
Thanks again for that guys.
Thanks to everyone who drove my house honking.
And thanks to our family who showed up for dinner.
P.S. It's not Padawan, thank you very much.
Professor Trelawney is in the house.
P.P.S. Thank you to my husband who knew that the funny party dress ups would be hilarious.
He gives the best presents.
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