Ha! You’re nothing but nothing but right. My missing arm is due to a gambling problem. You guess true, but I bet you double or nothing that you can’t guess the particulars of its removal. Come now. You’re no shrinking violet, no trembling flower sucker. Take the wager!
Ha-ha! Wrong! Let me tell it true. When you owe a band of slavers money, and you don’t have it, they take recompense through your freedom or through cruel sport. These devils chose the later.
Never underestimate a sandstorm. I know better than any sinner. A bad one raged outside, winds over 400 km/h. They cut off my sleeve, stuck my exposed arm out a little message slot in the door. Took four of them to hold me down. Sand and wind can conspire to become a million scalpels. Let’s just say, when it was over, a red skeleton waved back at me. Seeing your own wet bones changes you forever…
Anyway, I’m going to need that money before nightfall.