Broken Hearts and Broken Wallets

The biped broke his finger. He's telling people he got into a fistfight at the Old Colony ("Heh, heh, heh, you should see the other guy" stuff), but I know the truth. I saw the whole thing happen. He was grabbing a plastic grocery bag from the table in our new apartment and it slipped and jerked down on his finger like a couple of bricks were tied to it. There was a 2-liter bottle of club soda in the bag. He didn't cry, but he got pretty pale. Then ran around like a chicken for a couple minutes. In the end, he didn't do anything. He called his nurse friend who said ice and elevation. Oddly, that's what they told him at the clinic the next morning, too. No other help, of course. Like the Soviet Union in its glory days. Here's some photos for the not too weak at heart.





It's his ring finger. Writers call that an Objective Correlative. I call it hilarious.