Words Per Minute

The man with nine fingers leans forward, his face cut with shadows and light under the lamp. "You got 'em, Manny?"

"Sure." Manny places a crinkled paper sack on the table, reaches inside, and produces a rag. He unwraps the first layer of the rag, revealing dark stains on the folds underneath."Five choices this time...hope one works."
The man with nine fingers slides his right hand under the lamp. The pinkie is severed at the second joint, a clean cut with little scar tissue.
"This one ain't...