The tale of the supernumerary flipper

Once upon a flippin’ day there was a little boy who loved to flip people off. He would smile, laugh and flip all day long. When he would do this everyone would smile and wave. He hated people, but loved his hate. The smiles and laughter just made everyone in the world love him all the more.

But he loved his hate so much that he couldn’t keep from smiling while he just kept flipping off the whole world.

Of course there were other reasons that his hatred did not become apparent to his adoring public. One good reason for this misunderstanding was that both of his hands were backwards. Typical flipping etiquette would dictate that the back of the flipping hand is shown, not the front. Another good reason was that he had two middle fingers on his flipping hand. These two middle fingers made the little boy feel that he was giving double the flip to the world every time he flipped. But to his adoring fans it looked all the more like a friendly wave.

One day in “I Hate Wood Shop Class” the little boy cut off all the fingers on his flipping hand except one, the middle-most of his two middle fingers. The little boy was ready to show the world what he really thought of them. His bloody flipping mitt held high for all to see, he ran outside crying and flipping like he had never flipped before. As he flipped to the cameras and flipped to the crowds, he saw a little girl with beautiful little porcelain hands flipping him off like there was no flipping tomorrow. He had found a soul mate. Then she shot and killed him. The crowd rushed to his flipping side (because there was no room on the left) and tried to revive him, but he was too far gone.

The girl rushed into the group and apologized. But the crowd just looked at her with sympathy and the mayor said, “That’s alright, you couldn’t have known that he was really waving to us, because it certainly looks like he’s flipping everybody off. But on closer examination you can see that he recently accidentally sawed off all his fingers except the middle-most one.”

The grave stone bore the engraving, “He waved because he loved” beneath that it simply stated “a misunderstanding”. This misunderstanding was not the misunderstanding they thought it was. The little girl knew exactly what she was doing. She was killing the only person she could ever love, because she was afraid of rejection.

There are two morals to this story: If you can’t learn to express yourself, try to become what you seem. And, if you can’t handle rejection, suck it up.