Now, finding fingers isn’t all lollies and calliope music like one might imagine. In fact, most people who find disembodied extremities would likely feel compelled to say something along the lines of “ew”, or perhaps even “aaahhh” (or words to that effect). Benjamin Housley, of 6 Clayton Hill, Crawley, found three digits in his chips and went right off them altogether. Not even with fancy ketchup.
Molly was not so squeamish and, frankly, didn’t even like chips that much to begin with. Still, consternation ruled, and her brow developed worry-furrows so deep her eyebrows were concerned they might meet in the middle and all good brows know that two small beat one large, every time. She did not, however, gnash her teeth, as she not entirely sure what that entailed.
Still, owning a refrigerator full of fingers is not a particularly good mate-finding strategy despite what Cosmopolitan might otherwise indicate. Also, she imagined there was a particularly cross, eight-fingered person who might want those fingers back, if merely out of nostalgia. So, back to sleuthing!
An advert in the local paper hadn’t seemed to do the trick, nor did an informal polling of digit numbers (was that redundant?). This called for thinking outside the box. Molly wasn’t altogether sure what that even meant but they said it a lot on telly in circumstances such as these and the results were often good enough to neatly resolve the plot.
Perhaps she had taken the wrong approach with her advert, Molly mused. Some might think she was just a weirdo with a finger fetish, or, worse, a mad, cleaver-wielding finger collector with buckets of previously unsuspecting fingers which, mere hours previous, had been drumming impatiently on a shop counter or deftly exploring a nasal passage.
Yes, a change in tactic might be just the thing. Molly visited the local paper’s website and began furiously typing her new, strategic advert:
SWF (single, white finger-finder) seeks eight-fingered (or less!) person for fun and, potentially, surgery. No drugs, please. Non-smoker preferred.
There! Now she had merely to wait for the magic of the internet to resolve the mystery. Should that plan work, it would be a feat of true prestidigitation. Molly chuckled at her pun, accidentally dropping finger #2 in her milky tea, where it bobbed about like a fleshy submarine breaking surface.
Molly was, for the moment, optimistic. She could not possibly have foreseen just how wrong things would, in fact, go.