Describe Your First Brush with Danger

When I was just a youngin’, maybe five years old, I remember sitting on the kitchen counter on a bright summer afternoon. My mom was nearby, but engrossed in something other than her overly curious (and in this moment, stupid) daughter.

As I sat there, I noticed a black stapler resting innocently beside me. And I distinctly remember thinking to myself, “I wonder what would happen if I stapled my finger…”

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind did I pick up the stapler with my chubby right hand, slipped my left thumb underneath its arm and proceeded to press all my weight down on it.

After hearing it snap, I lifted my newly decorated thumb up to my face to examine it. The thin line of silver went perfectly down the middle and dark, thick blood quickly began pouring out of it on both sides. It was at that moment the pain suddenly struck me and I began wailing.

My mother immediately took notice and tended to my stapled thumb, trying to calm me down and comfort me at the same time.

She may or may not have asked me why I stapled my finger. But if she did, I’m fairly certain my distressed five-year-old self was not able to articulate that clearly.

So Mom, if you’re reading this, I just wanted to know what it felt like. It’s a pain I’ve never forgotten still to this day.

And you know what I learned? Sometimes it’s just better not to know.