We went to Dave’s store of choice, a sports collectibles shop that specialized in baseball memorabilia. We went to my store of choice, pretty much just a basic toy store with an abundance of Superman figures. And now we were about to turn a corner and enter Kenn’s store of choice, a Japanese import shop filled with wall to wall, floor to ceiling, selection after selection of that smooth, stylized, Japanese anime scheme of figures, models, and plush toys. As we were making our way into the store, in no particular order, a stray dog tries to walk in with us. I shake my finger at it and tell it to wait its turn, make a crack about it being a store for people not for dogs, etc… Everyone thinks I’m being cute in having a conversation with the dog, they all smile, and then filter in one by one. I stay outside, petting the dog, scratching behind its ear, rubbing its belly, and on and on. I’m making the dog very happy and relaxed. I hear from inside, “Ben! You have to see this! This is the greatest toy ever!” I turn my head, and as I make to get up and go inside, the dog turns furious and bites tip off my right index finger. There’s no blood, for whatever reason, just a clean cut straight through leaving me in pain on the floor and the dog playing some kind of game of catch with the severed end of my finger. My sister calls for both the police and the paramedics, Lisa sits by my side to try and console me, and Kenn, Jessica, and Dave start a huddle and plan an attack on my attacker. Kenn, Jessica, and Dave step away from each other, breaking out of their huddle, put their fists on the hips and make like they’re about to transform into their superhero outfits/personas, when the police and paramedics Adina called for arrive on the scene. While the police busy themselves in retrieving my detached finger, the paramedics surround me, each asking his own series of question in his own order. The only question I can understand through all the commotion is, “What happened?” Unable to make a sound other than screams escape my lips, I raise my right hand and point with what’s left of my index finger. This is where it gets really funny – the paramedics look behind them to see what I’m pointing at. When they turn their faces back to me with an expression that can only be translated as, “I don’t see anything,” I extend my index finger stub once more in an attempt to show them that I am in fact missing a part of me, they turn their heads again. It’s not until the paramedics and I go through this dance a couple times that both Lisa grabs one of them and explains in gory detail what just happened and one of the police officers returns with my chewed up finger that the paramedics finally understand. Sure enough, once everything’s settled and everyone knows I have to get to the hospital ASAP to have my finger reattached, I wake up. Dream over. |
