Over Thanksgiving I went down to South Carolina to visit my parents who had just moved to Myrtle Beach. It was nice on Thanksgiving day to walk on the beach in 70 degree weather, but on that walk my father found a rock/shell/reminant that looked (so he thought) like a finger. He picked it up and over the next few days we got "look what I found on my Wendy's chilli" and he'd pull it out.
This apparently continued for several weeks until he decided to paint a finger nail on it:
He tells us that he plans to buy flesh-colored paint next for the rest of it. At the various Christmas parties we went to he pulled it out at inopportune times, but not before people asked him, "John where's your finger?"
That's my dad.
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