The Rest of the Story

Went to the card game. Ladies saw my bloody finger, knew immediately what had happened. Offered me a band aid to cover the end of the finger. They use them all the time. Offered me a permanent spot on the team.

 After some consideration I decide I don't want to join a group that I care what they might think. So I tell them I'm terminal and can't imagine their sadness when I go so I'm not going to put them through that and goodbye. I made this all up, in case you believe'd it. Or even if you didn't believe it. I lie. Bye.