Flipping Lids and Fingers
Another tale from the Legends of Bill
II am your typical asshole older teenaged brother. I was a prick to my little sisters: When I didn't have the younger two doing my household chores, under the threat of violence, I was fighting with the sister that was only two years younger than I. And when I say fight, I mean fight. She was a hardhead and didn't learn from, or remember, the prior beatdowns I had delivered so she started a new fist fight weekly. So, in the summer of 84, when shit got taken up a notch, no one should have been surprised.
I was 15 and it was a miserably hot, humid, typical August day in St. Louis. My mom, her boyfriend, and my two youngest sisters had gone out to get a wedding present for a distance cousin's marriage that evening. I came home from a friend's, stoned off my ass, and decided to park my big ass in the living room and read the paper. About two pages later my 13 year old sister Alicia busts into the living room, announcing that a few of her cheerleader bitch friends were on their way over and that I needed to vacate the main living areas – but, of course, before I disappeared I needed to help her pick up the house.
"Fuck you and those cunts" was my reply. To further prove that I didn't give a shit about her friends or her feelings, I started tearing the newspapers to shreds and tossing the pieces around the living room. With my fingers mashing the shit outta her buttons, I saw the fire ignite in Alicia's eyes. Yeah I provoked her, but why should I have to leave my house? Just because she caught me banging her friend during a slumber party it didn't mean I wanted to bang them all (actually, I did want to bang them all, but I would never admit it). She starts screaming, and at that point I pull a roach outta my pocket and fire it up. Little Nancy fuckin' Reagan Jr. flipped, and I see arms and fists coming my way. Now, I don't want to hit her and hurt her; I wanna finish my doob, watch some Gilligan's Island and chill. So I throw her in a headlock, hip toss her to the ground, tell her to relax and hold her in place until she agrees to back off. Headlock released. I get back to my chair and start looking for the remote as she leaves the room.
I find the remote and flip to MTV (All right! Van Halen's new video for Panama is on!) Suddenly, I see a flash of movement from the corner of my eye, and GODDAMNIT… here she comes again - but now the psycho little bitch has a steak knife in her hand and an evil glint in her eye. In the past she has tried this on me and I usually back down and give in. Not today, motherfucker! Okay, okay OKAY! ENOUGH IS FUCKING ENOUGH! I jump up and grab the hand with the knife. She starts to throw a right hook. I block it and grab her other hand and start leading her to the front door. I'm gonna toss this bitch out on her ass and let her explain to her friends why she is locked out of the house with a steak knife from Sizzler in her hand.
I'm dragging her screaming ass to the front door, turn the knob sideways and kick the screen door open. With a mighty pull, I throw her out the door, grab the front door and slam it. Now, it seems in hindsight that my mighty pull of her, out the door, wasn't so mighty after all, because instead of the door shutting and latching, it slams into her face instead, making her one angry bitch. The door swings back towards me and all I see is flashing steel. I put my hands up to protect my face. Haha, the bitch missed, but I'm gonna get back at her.
I quickly grab my right hand with my left and start yelling that she had cut me. She tells me to fuck off, that she didn't even come close. I tell her I will show her if she comes just a little closer. She steps up and I uncover my right hand, to get her good… and we watch in horror as the pinky on my right hand is now just barely hanging on by a tiny piece of tendon and skin, and gallons of blood were spurting out. Oh shit, the girl got me! She got me really fucking good!
She screamed, I screamed, we both screamed in horror! What the fuck were we going to do? My mom wasn't going to be home for another few hours and I was sure I was going to bleed to death. My sister grabbed a roll of paper towels and wrapped my hand up while we decided what to do. Well, my grandparents only lived a couple of miles away, so we could call them to come take me to the hospital. However, my grandmother was a neat freak and with her car's white interior, I didn't think she'd take me and risk me bleeding all over her car. Well, I guessed we should just call 911 so I didn't bleed to death before mom got home. So we called and told them, "I had my finger cut off by a pissed-off little sister with a stolen steak knife from the Sizzler, and could you please send someone fast before I bleed to death."
The ambulance arrived within five minutes and the EMTs started tending to my wounds. As they were loading me in the truck, I noticed a couple of Police Cars pulling up also. What the fuck? I gotta go to the hospital and get fixed before I bleed to death.
They shut the doors and I'm off to the hospital. As we were pulling away, I noticed the cops slapping the cuffs on my sister. Now the EMTs wanted to talk to me, instead of getting me to the nearest hospital before I bled to death. They wanted to know which hospital to take me to.
"Fuck, I dunno. Whatever is closest! I'm gonna bleed to death, fuckers!"
"Well what kind of insurance do you have?"
"DO I LOOK LIKE I FUCKING PAY THE BILLS? I DUNNO!"
Now once again, in hindsight, what kind of jackass asks a 15 year old boy with jet black hair (with Blackie Lawless white streaks in it) that goes to the middle of his ass, wearing a Celtic Frost shirt what kind of fucking insurance he has?
"JUST TAKE ME TO THE CLOSEST HOSPITAL BEFORE I FUCKING BLEED TO DEATH!
"Now listen, you little bastard: We already stopped the bleeding, and if you css at me again we are gonna dump your dumb ass in the ghetto, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Fuckin' pussy. It’s just a finger."
We arrived at the hospital. They started cleaning the wound and deciding how to best handle it. In the middle of the discussion, on how to reattach the digit, a cop in uniform walked in and asked the doctors to leave so they could have a talk with me. It turned out, that when you call for an ambulance for a knife wound, they have to send the cops. Now they want my side of the story.
I told them the truth. Fuck, what did I have to lose? The psycho bitch was trying to kill me! So he said, when I was done, "Sir, do you want to press charges for assault with a deadly weapon with intent to kill?" Now, I thought to myself, to do that to my sister would be really fucked up of me. I told him I didn't think so, but could I have a few minutes to think about it?
In walked my grandfather, who had just gotten a call from my mom saying that she came home to a note saying:
Dear Mom,
Billy's in the hospital and I'm going to
jail for assault with a deadly weapon.
Please come get one of us.
Love,
Alicia
So she got on the phone and had my grandfather come to the hospital to check on me while she bailed my sister out. At this point, I had doctors sewing up tendons and flesh, getting ready to put the finger in a splint and cast it; a cop standing over one shoulder asking me to make up my mind on pressing charges or not; and my grandfather over the other shoulder telling me I should, to teach her a lesson. On top of that, a nurse brought a phone into the room and told me I had a phone call. What the fuck now? It was my Dad, whose ship was somewhere between LA and Hawaii, calling me on a ship-to-shore emergency line, screaming at me that if I press charges he will fly home and finish the job my sister started.
"Okay, officer, I have decided not to press charges."
"You little snot-nosed bastard, I have spent all afternoon sitting here with you when I could have been with my family. I should lock you up for obstructing justice. You fucking people make me sick." He stomped off.
A couple of hundred stitches and one cast later they finally released me with follow-ups every day for the next two weeks to make sure the reattachment took.
I came home with a memory and the scar of a lifetime.
by
Barbed Wire Bill
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What is this, 1967?
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