Some friends and I were at dinner the other day. While waiting for our food to arrive, we realized we'd gone through the normal conversation subjects of, "How have you been?" and "It is going to be a cold winter this year."
With no interesting topics popping up, I threw one of my own out which was more or less, "If you had to cut off two of your fingers, which would they be?"
My buddy in reading and world domination, who has learned to just take these questions and usually go with them, had to point out, "Normally you don't get to pick when you lose fingers."
"Well, I read this book where this brother had to cut off two of his fingers to save his twin. If you ever have to save my life, I just want to know in advance you have this thought out."
He contemplated the matter, finally naming his two, after I named the two I had already decided - about a year ago - which I would cut off. But, since it was the two of us, we couldn't stop at fingers. We had to move on to the rest of our limbs and most of the evenings conversation contained well thought out debates of which arm we would cut off if we had to, leg, toes, and so on and so forth. By the time our dinner showed up we knew which side we would land on if we ever found ourselves falling out of a train, which leg we would give to be chopped off and replaced with a robot one, and if we would give up our eyesight or our hearing.
And this is one reason why I am socially awkward and quiet around dinner unless I am with people I know extremely well.
That is all. Today is laundry day and the dyer just informed me it has completed its task and now it is my turn.
Quote is from 12, his first episode when he crash lands in London after running away from a dinosaur.