Mystery Meat

Mrs.Bison has many wonderful talents, but using a knife is not one of them. Any time she has to cut up vegetables I hold my breath, half expecting a sudden exclamation of "Oh shit!" followed by the spurt of fresh blood across the kitchen floor. There have been many cuts, slices and near-misses over the years but so far she's escaped anything requiring a trip to the emergency room. It's true that a couple of times she probably should have got stitches, so that the wound would heal more quickly, but she's made of tough stuff, plus she's appallingly stubborn and disinclined to seek medical help. (This year I selected the lowest level of medical coverage that my company's plan offers; I explained it to my spouse by pointing out that "You won't go to the doctor even if your fucking arm is hanging off by a thread - what's the point of buying all that insurance?")

Anyway, about two weeks ago I came home and was greeted within two milliseconds of opening the door by Bison daughter who gleefully informed me that "Mummy's cut her finger off!" It turned out that Mrs.Bison had decided to sharpen a knife before making dinner and, armed with this newly-honed tool, was slicing red peppers. She was just musing that "this knife is really good - I must sharpen all my other knives" when she sliced through the end of her finger. Now Mrs.Bison doesn't really do blood very well, especially when it's hers, so Bison daughter helped patch her up. Of course there was no thought of going to the doctor, even though, by all accounts, the kitchen looked like that scene with the chainsaw from "Hostel" by the time she was done. There was a lot of pain too, so much so that once the blood had eventually dried up, she couldn't remove the dressing without causing agony. Even accidentally knocking the finger made her suddenly scream, which was exceedingly unnerving, especially when it happened in the middle of the sodding night.

So for two weeks the part of the dressing covering the end of the finger stayed in place. Until today, in fact, when she was finally able to remove it, revealing that she had managed to circumcise her little finger. The end was gone. I don't mean the whole end, including the nail - that might have become obvious a little earlier, perhaps when she was putting the dressing on, but the finger is definitely shorter and squared-off at the end now.

I pointed out that she might have gone to the doctor two weeks earlier and had it looked at but she (probably correctly) asked what they could have done. "It's not like they could make it grow back, is it?" So what happened to the fingertip? Well, she was cutting up red pepper, remember? And she went on to finish making what turned out to be a quite acceptable stir-fry pork dish, which apparently contained just a little more protein than had been intended.

I cannot conceive of circumstances which would cause me to murder my excellent wife but if I were ever called upon to dispose of her body you can be sure she wouldn't end up under the patio. For a start it's all clay soil and would take fucking ages to dig. No, based on my recent experience I'd probably stir-fry her. At least I know one knife that would be up to the task...


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison