Quite possibly my fondest thanksgiving memory was that of my year in kindergarten. I was but a sprout, foolish in my ways. I was playing "Jail" with my sister, which involved her putting me in the bathroom closet and locking me in there so that she could continue with her chores. However, the final time she put me in the closet, she had failed to notice my little index finger wiggling in the hinges. and avast, she slammed my fate shut.
Yeah, my sister cut my finger off with a door. Savage. But what part was the most humorous: when my mom put bandaids on my severed finger, or when she boiled it in water to "clean it" in her panicked frenzy? or perhaps it was me, proclaiming "I'm gonna die" as we made our way to the hospital.
My favorite one-liner from the endeavor: the doctor asking if I could walk as my dad carried me in, and I, the sarcastic child I am, proclaiming "It's my finger that's broken, not my legs!"
Yeah, my sister cut my finger off with a door. Savage. But what part was the most humorous: when my mom put bandaids on my severed finger, or when she boiled it in water to "clean it" in her panicked frenzy? or perhaps it was me, proclaiming "I'm gonna die" as we made our way to the hospital.
My favorite one-liner from the endeavor: the doctor asking if I could walk as my dad carried me in, and I, the sarcastic child I am, proclaiming "It's my finger that's broken, not my legs!"
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