A Sixth Finger

After a bit of guitar shopping, Gavin and I walked outside only to discover a man draped over our scooter like a wet blanket.  Men here love to drape themselves over their motorbikes, all very bizarre to me.  Anyways, there he was, caressing our bike as though it was his own.  He didn’t seem to understand it was ours until we literally had to ask him to remove himself from our bike.  While we were putting on our helmets and masks and Gavin was starting the bike, I studied the man.  Something was a bit off about him.  He had moved to the next bike over and was slowly caressing it with his hands.  Something was strange about his right paw.  A small sixth finger had sprouted from the middle of his thumb.  The base of it was very thin and looked like a infirm, soggy noodle.  A deformity that could have been easily removed with a band saw and a band-aid, but never had been separated likely due to personal aesthetic preference.  The small piece of flesh ballooned out to a normal pinky sized finger, and even had a small, dingy nail attached.  As he gestured and moved about, his appendage swayed to and fro.