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Thumbs up!

3 AM.

Guy walks through the front door.

“Hi there, sir, how can I help you this morning?”

“I cut my thumb off.”

I’ve heard similar stories, usually exaggerated.  “Can I see it?”

He removes a bloody paper towel and, sure enough, there’s a ragged stump where the knuckle of his thumb ought to be.  His friend holds up a cup, holding what I can only assume to be the other portion of this guy’s digit.

“Okay, sir, give us just a minute and I’ll get you into a room.”

I love my job.

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