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Sara was at work. Hank was sulking in the corner because he peed on Grissom again, and in haste of rushing out of the bedroom, the dumb dog knocked the clock off the wall. All the components to the clock were scattered along the floor.
"Dumb-shit dog" he mumbled under his breath as he collected the pieces.
This was going to be a great recovery effort and was going to take a lot of time.
The piece looked like a circular saw blade about 6 inches in diameter, only it was blun,t and one of the teeth was bent. If he could bend it back into shape it would work again.
So he tried. Grissom balanced the plate on his knee and started to bend it back into shape.
It gave a little.

"Come on you bitch!" Grissom gritted out between clenched teeth.

It gave a little more and then the disc flew up in the air and landed with a clank on the floor.
Grissom clenched his thumbs to his hands, as something didn't feel right. His thumbs were throbbing...not sore, just...throbbing.

He dared a peek at the left one, turned his palm to face him and quickly lifted his thumb.
It was bright pink as the very new skin was revealed underneath it as it started to pump out blood.
Quite a lot, so he clamped his thumb back down to his hand till his thumb turned white.

Shit!

Almost comically he braved a peek at his other thumb. Same story only a lot more blood.

Grissom started to panic, he was going to bleed to death before Sara got home!
He ran into the kitchen carrying his thumbs in his fists.

A series of thoughts ran though his head. Do I call 911 and pick up what's left of my thumbs and ask them to sew them back on? Or do I call Sara and ask her to come home and fix my digits?The sticky blood was oozing through his fingers so he squeezed tighter and ran up the stairs to use the phone. Grissom had to call the number with his little fingers. It looked ridiculous, like the scene in Edward Scissorhands when he tries to pick up the pea.

"Hey lover," Sara answered, recognizing the caller ID.

"Sara I need you come home quick! I have a problem."

"Can it wait?"

"Not really."

"I get off work in an hour...if you wait I'll make it up to you," she said in a sing-song voice.

"I don't think I'll be alive in an hour."

"It's not that bad...Is it?"

The dog went legging down the stairs to try and eat the tasty goodness of Grissom's thumbs.

"Hank NO! BAD DOG!" Hank scampered off, tail between legs, back into the bedroom.

"The dog is trying to eat my thumbs."

"What!"

"That's why I need you to come home...I've had an accident."

"I'm on my way!"