* Taken from story.

The tip of the Navy Seal assault knife penetrated the wood of the tabletop with such force a six-inch split spread across its wood finish, the blade now resting between two of my fingers. Jerking my hand away, I watched as dark red droplets of blood formed, slid down my hand and dripped onto the soiled, gold carpet at my feet. Grabbing a T-shirt from the back of a nearby chair, I wiped at the wound. Blood immediately started to swell again, but not before I noticed a small flap of flesh torn away from the inside of my index finger just below the first knuckle. The finger was already starting to throb.

Placing the T-shirt against the wound I said, "You bastard."

"Next time, I’ll cut one or more off," Frank said, now struggling to withdraw the blade from the tabletop.