We had just ordered a pizza, when somewhere between the couch and door — and completely absent a logical cause such as a carpet nail, warped floorboard, or pile of broken glass — I manage to slice my toe open. Within seconds my foot looks like a cadaver prop they pull out of a swamp on NCIS. In addition, there was a red footprint trail running from his couch to the apartment foyer and back that might draw the police's attention should anyone from his building disappear anytime soon.
How did Junior react to a living room that looked like a crime scene, the inevitable loss of his security deposit to bio-hazard cleaning fees, and Papa John's new, but disappointing, garlic dipping sauce?
Like any former eagle scout, he quickly rigged a makeshift tourniquet, elevated the cut, and microwaved the dipping sauce, which really does improve the taste. God bless the younger guy libido. Well-feed and slightly giddy from blood loss, I was ready to get down to business.
So, the night wasn't a total bust and the doctors think there's a good chance I'll be able to keep my toe.