the tale of the mutant pinkie*

* let me preface this tale by saying 2 things: 
1) i wrote this post by spelling the word "pinky" with a "y." spell-check gave me the red squiggly lines of death, and told me that it should be spelled "pinkie." so i changed it. but i personally like "pinky" better. thoughts?
2) what you're about to read is a tragic tale. a horrific tale that has become significantly funnier the further i get away from it actually happening. i'm pretty sure it belongs in a movie like Dumb and Dumberer-est or something. so. no need to feel guilty for laughing at my absolute dorkiness and for not feeling any sort of pity on my idiocy at all.

once upon a time, there was a young mama of two hooligan children. they were really cute children, but their constant mischief and whining made them hooligans nonetheless. (irrelevant details). this mama always operated about 5 minutes late...because one of said hooligans always had to go potty right before it was time to go, or had a messy diaper, or dumped a milk+water+paint concoction all over the floor. it was a circus. but it was a happy circus, so this mama was happy.

one day, the mama had 3 hours with only the baby hooligan, while the master hooligan was at school. the young mama was so excited because she had many errands to run- and then could put the baby down for her nap and even clean up some of the chaos back at the circus house. it was going to be a good day.

and so the young mama made her impressive list and was off to do her errands. she arm wrestled baby hooligan in the grocery cart, threw a couple of full boxes of cheerios in her always-open beak (wait, is this a baby hooligan or a baby bird we're talking about??), and when the cheerios were gone and her strength was spent, they arrived at the car. baby hooligan started squawking -- so young mama glanced at her watch and realized it was nap-time. she ran to her drivers' seat where she set down her phone and keys- this had become a crisis-prevention course of action, since she'd misplaced both items too many times before.

so in the car seat went the baby hooligan...who used impressive wiggling-jello-body-skills to protest the seat- but luckily young mama won this time.
then baby hooligan started squawking and whimpering again.
so young mama dashed to her bags, and started throwing them in the trunk- being careful with the bananas and bread (because squished bread and bruised bananas are just nasty). then the young mama quickly shut the trunk (since everything she did was done quickly). and the unthinkable happened... she felt pain. immense pain. in her cute little pinkie on her right hand. she pulled. and pulled. and PULLED. and realized, yes, in fact, the impossible happened. her pinkie finger was stuck in the trunk. you heard the narrator correctly: STUCK IN THE TRUNK. the young mama had somehow, in some way, slammed her beautiful pinkie finger in the trunk. it was immovable. thoughts of panic ran through her mind.

"how was this possible!?"
"maybe i can wriggle it out..."
"how can i open this trunk...the keys are on the front seat...am i going to be stuck forever!!??"
"they're going to have to amputate!"
"i liked my pinkie so much!"
"will i be deformed forever?"
"will M still love me without my pinkie?"
"could i die from this?"
"am i on candid camera?"

after coming to the conclusion that she wasn't going to escape alone, she started doing a freaky-panic dance to any and all people that happened to be meandering in the proximity of "the incident." there was a person waiting for her parking spot- so the young mama waved ballistically and screamed at them, "I'M STUCK! HELP ME! HELP MEEEEEEE!" she looked crazy, hunched over her trunk, waving her left arm like a monkey.
just then, a mysterious man arrived at the scene. "Holy Sh$$!!" he yelled. and then asked the young mama where her keys were. she told him, "RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!" (as if he was the idiot or something).

about a minute had passed.
she was beginning to feel like a movie was going to be made of all of this.
she wondered if she'd be alive to see it made.

finally, mystery man found his brain, along with the lever for the trunk and popped it open.
young mama jumped up and simultaneously cursed a naughty word.
and then she felt bubbles come from her toes to her head...and puked her guts out.

young mama got in the car and cried.
the man upstairs had in fact saved her finger, but washed her potty-mouth out with puke.
the baby hooligan was oblivious to the scenario- and giggled at the young mama's crying, as baby hooligans seem to do sometimes.

two weeks passed, and the finger got increasingly ugly, turning black and blue and swelling up real plump. the young mama's hubby began referring to her once-cute-pinkie as "the mutant finger."
her parents began freaking the young mama out with old wives tales and stories of gangrene.
and her friends constantly encouraged her to see a doctor because "it just didn't look right."

so the young mama found a morning when she could escape away from the hooligans for the exciting event of seeing a doctor. almost as soon as she arrived, she saw nurses and doctors who all scolded her for waiting so long to come in. "i have hooligans for children and live in a circus. i don't have time for doctors," she thought. the doc rolled her eyes at the careless young mama and told her to get an X-ray immediately. the medics kept referring to the young mama's injury as a "crush wound." the young mama felt like she was an impostor of some real serious injury...until the results came back showing a minor fracture, and the doc informed her that she had an infection and would need antibiotics and a splint. luckily the medics assured the young mama that she and the pinkie would find their way out of deformity...eventually.

this story has no happy ending, for the finger is still in a "mutant state."
what does 'eventually' mean, exactly?
will the pinkie ever heal?
will the young mama ever be normal again?
only time will tell.

the moral of this story:
don't be in too big of a hurry...you never know how your pinkie may suffer.

{please don't judge the young mama's Hitler mustache. taking care of hooligans and crush wounds come before personal hygiene (or photoshop editing) (seriously though, why does it look like that?)}

xoxo