The Ice Cream Epiphany

I'm in English 318 this semester, "Writing Fiction". Our first prompt was to steal an anecdote from someone and embellish it. This is a story from my friend Bryan, he was the kid missing the thumb. The most surprising part of this story that's true? The firefighters watching "Ed, Edd, & Eddy". Thankfully this was just a "turn in and get an A" assignment, because I'm not too pleased with it, but here's to posting something rather than nothing!

I turned my face from the gusts, leaves, and debris flying into my eyes. Turning my focus and concentration away from the task at hand (holding branches for my brother to cut with the hedge clippers) was a mistake. It wasn’t so much painful as shocking, that all of the sudden, as clean as scissors cutting paper, my thumb was half gone. The gusty weather blew the clippers off course and straight into my flesh. I ran inside, yelling “ow, ow, ow!” right up to my grandmother. Her face looked pale and her footing started to falter. Since she wasn’t quick enough to give me any helpful advice, I ran to the sink and put what was left of my thumb under the tap. I was grabbing fistfuls of paper towels and any washcloths within reach and wrapping my stub as tightly as possible.

My brother was standing in the doorway, draining to the same color my grandmother was. He had forgotten to drop the clippers, and was holding the blood stained shears in his hand. In the background I could hear my grandmother faintly calling 911. By that time I was focused less on my digit and the towels and more on the “Ed, Edd, and Eddy” show playing on the TV in the living room, in plain view of the kitchen sink. It was a pretty good episode because when the fire department showed up, they didn’t seem to care much about my thumb either, and were standing around our television. About the end of the episode, my mother’s car screeched into the driveway. She whisked me into her car and the fire fighters began to leave as well. Before she shut the door completely, my brother ran to the car, chucking the shears into the lawn. Tears were running down his face as he bent down and awkwardly hugged me despite my seat belt and bulging, towel-laden thumb. He stood on the sidewalk as we drove away, and I knew I wasn't mad at him.

In the emergency room, the doctor sewed the other half of my thumb back on. I’m not sure how he got a hold of it, but there it was, back in its original resting place. Sitting in the waiting room, I finally realized what had happened. I mean, I knew what had happened, but the pain and fear and shock had only just settled on my 11 year old consciousness. Once the doctor was finished, I turned and said, “Mom, I want ice cream”. Without a moment’s hesitation she agreed. As I was slurping on my cone one the drive home, it all clicked in my mind. I wasn’t a masochist but if this was the key to ice cream on demand…I’d have to help my brother with the yard work more often.