Oh my god I just amputated my finger! That fucking car door just screwed up my finger! Oh shit! Oh shit! My dad is walking up the steps of our house and I am scrunched up against the passenger door of his Honda Civic, somewhere between crying and throwing my fist through the window.
             The tip of my index finger feels like the white part of a flame and I don't want to look. I can't look. It would hurt even more to look. I might pass out and bleed to death. So what should I do? Should I survey the extent of the damage, make an uneducated analysis of the real danger I am in, and then pass out? Or act on impulse by satisfying that macabre, childish desire to put it in my mouth and suck the pain away? What would you do? I decide on the latter, because instinct is instinct and I am a creature of habit.
             As my mouth clamps down on the "amputated" limb, I am overwhelmed by the warm, metallic taste of my blood. This must be what a coin slot in a pop machine tastes like. I look like a baby who substituted his finger for a pacifier.
             My dad finally realizes that I haven't followed him through the door of our house and returns to the driveway where I lie crumpled into a fetal position, squirming with pain.
             "Oh, what'd you do this time?" And then he sees the blood running down my chin. I can't answer him and he's getting angrier because of it. He's one of those: "I demand an answer immediately!" persons.
             "Why is there blood coming out of your mouth? I can't leave you alone for five seconds."
             From laughing through my pacified mouth, I end up spray painting my hand, sleeve and pants with blood. I'm a total fucking mess. The laugher is a result of the body administering pain relief through its endorphins. Dizziness then numbness should follow. The numbing can't come soon enough.
             "Well get up and get inside, it's starting to rain."...