Giving the Finger

"How'd you lose the tip of your finger?"

Kids are always much more open and up front with that sort of question. It also gives you a clue at how we're being sized up by them when first met.

Well... I was 5 years old... (I'm reporting facts as I remember them).

"I was showing off and I grabbed a bicycle chain." Eweeeuuu!

That usually ends the inquiry, but like always, the Devil is in the details.

Fake Severed Finger $1.99 Classic gag looks like real fingers Fast Shipping. Huge Joke Shop.www.GagWorks.com
Sponsored Link

My family was living in the second of the 11 places we lived as I was growing up. It was a habitat I was fond of: There was a school across the street (where I attended first grade), and down the block was one of Chicago's large city parks, La Follette Park.

There was a church with a steeple that chimed on the hour, and I liked that. The steeple was lit at night and when I got up I would look out the window and check on it. If the lights on it were out, that meant it was really late, and not just late. But, back to the finger...

I was allowed to go to the park and hang out, climb trees, etc. and I would take my 16 inch "starter" bike over there every time I could get permission to go. Starter bikes in those days, had a direct drive chain and sprocket. That means, you did not coast with them, if the back wheel was turning, so were the pedals.

This is really a classic tale, one with a good guy, bad guy, sweet girl, and bumbling old man. It may have been made into a Scooby Do episode. Guess which role I played?
It's better all around if I give you the program now:

Billy 1 - Me (the good guy)

Billy 2 - The kid next door (the bad guy)

Sweet Polly - The little girl we both were trying to impress

Old Man - A passing pedestrian (well meaning, but not all that helpful)

Now that we've got that out of the way, on with the story.

I'm up in my favorite tree, just hanging alone on this particular afternoon, when Billy 2 comes along with Sweet Polly. Seeing an opportunity to win points with the young girl, Billy 2 takes my little bicycle and turns it upside down so it's on it's seat and handlebars. His next move is to crank the pedals really fast and critique it's lack of real speed.

At THAT insult, I jump down from my tree and and with an "Oh yeah?" grab the chain (with the idea that nothing impresses a girl like super strength) and immediately stop the spinning pedals by inserting my finger into the sprocket.

OK, I wasn't that stupid. I HAD impulsively grabbed the chain with both hands. It took only a millionth of a second to realize that was a bad idea. This is why I only lost the one finger: I had pulled my hands out so fast, pointer finger, which should have been first on the guillotine, was out of the way, and the tip of middle finger got the shaft. er, sprocket.

They were both impressed alright, blood shooting out of my hand like a bad horror movie. Billy 2 shouted "eeewwuuu!!! let's get out of here!" and he and Sweet Polly ran away as fast as they could.
Blood shooting out of any part of your body is a crying and wailing occasion, no matter what age you are, let alone age 5. And let alone I was. I began to walk briskly, the half-block back to my house when...

enters
Old Man: What happen to your hand?

Billy 1: Waaaahhh !!!

Old Man: Where do you live sonny?
Billy 1: (points at house in the middle of the block)

Old Man: I'd better walk you there

Billy 1: (wailing continues)

20 minutes later...

Old Man is taking credit for "finding" me and getting me home with my mother.
Somebody is always trying to impress somebody.
They took me to St Annes hospital where I heard my father deny (for the first time) he was a Catholic. I thought about correcting him, but then figured he was working some angle.

Good things about Giving the Finger

Beside the obvious; giving the finger to people under the guise that you're just showing them your injury, there was also this:

Years later on reflection, I realized another good thing that came from the accident. One of them was over the next few months, my father spent time (about an hour) every night with me running hot water over it. He would also wrap a huge bandage around it until it looked like the finger mummy.*

This was quite possibly the peak of our relationship.

* the finger mummy would sometimes attack my toy plastic soldiers when I got tired of them attacking each other.