My nephew is five years old and like all children of that age he is obsessed with Barney the Purple Dinosaur. One weekend I was visiting him with a gift: A purple rabbits foot I’d won at Gamers World in Hyannis.

“What is it?” he asks as I hold it out to him.

“It’s Barney’s thumb,” I tell him. “Squeeze it and you can feel his bones.”

My nephew takes it. The fur is deceptively soft in his hands. He squeezes it and the color drains in his face. He runs inside the house, screaming in terror. He returns a few minutes later, wiping tears from his face.

“My mom says it’s just a rabbits foot,” he says defiantly.

“Really?” I ask. “Have you ever seen a purple rabbit?” He begins to cry again and runs back into the house.

Ten minutes later he’s back, his lower lip jutting angrily. “I just saw Barney on TV,” he says. “He has his thumb.”

At the time, I was working in video production. And we had talked about my job in the past, and I reminded him that Barney’s show was filmed weeks ago.

He listens carefully and considers all the facts. “So,” he eventually asks, “where’d you get it from?”

“Well,” I begin, “some friends and I were out at a bar the other night, and Barney comes in drunk and starts acting tough and talking shit.” I go on to explain how we’d finally had enough of his asshole purple dino crap; so a friend of mine hit Barney across the head with a pool cue and knocked him out silly.

While he was unconcious on the barroom floor I sawed off his thumb with a steak knife. I did it not only because Barney was being a drunk dick, but because I knew how much my nephew would want the thumb.

My nephew’s eyes widen as he now strokes the purple fur. “Wow,” he says. “I’m the only person in the world who has this.” He then gives me a huge hug and runs back inside, this time screaming with delight.

“Hey mom!” he yells. “I have Barney’s thumb!”

On Monday morning, he will proudly bring it into school for show-n-tell. He will tell his class the story of a shit talking purple dinosaur, the pool cue to the skull, and his uncle’s steak knife surgery. He will then insist it be passed around the room to be squeezed so you can feel the bones.

Many children will flee the classroom in terror…..

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