Chapter 3: The One with the Thumb and the Ring
Phoebe stared at the soda can on the table, a horrifying, severed thumb peeking out from the opening. Joey, who had been bragging about an audition that he had, in his own words, "crushed," recoiled in disgust.
"Oh my God, Phoebs! What is that? Is that… a finger?!"
"A thumb," she corrected him, her voice calm. "It's a thumb. From a hand. Probably a nice person. Maybe not. I don't know, I didn't get to meet them. It's a tragedy, really. You never know who you're going to lose a thumb to."
Chandler, who was sitting next to her and trying to light a cigarette, shivered. He had been trying to quit, but the stress of his new life, plus the thumb, was making him want to smoke a pack. "I think I just threw up in my mouth a little."
Adam, who had been talking to Monica, came over, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, that's certainly a conversation starter. 'So, how was your day?' 'Oh, you know, I found a thumb in my drink.' I think you're going to get a great story out of this, Phoebs."
Phoebe nodded. "It's not just a story. It's a sign. A cosmic… thumb-print." She paused. "I'm going to get some money for this, right?"
Adam smirked. "Oh, you're going to get a lot of money. You're going to get enough money to buy some really weird, thumb-related art." He then discreetly checked his mental System. "Alright, System. The Bellucci coffee and dinner dates went great. Now, as a joke, what kind of gift should I get her? Make it a bit silly, you know, for the joke."
[Buy a ring from Chinatown stall #47 on Pell Street for Monica Bellucci. Before presenting it on your next date, clean and polish it with a soft cloth. When presenting it, say: 'This ring is as timeless and unique as the woman wearing it.']
Adam's mind whirred. Chinatown? A stall? The System was always oddly specific. He looked at Monica, who was gushing to Rachel about her new boyfriend, Alan.
"He's perfect!" she squealed. "He's so sweet, and he's so… normal! He's not a thumb-finder, he's not a chain-smoker, he's not a divorced paleontologist, and he's certainly not a blue-haired prankster!"
Adam raised an eyebrow at the last comment. He had to give her credit; the blue food coloring was a good move. But he had a plan. A small, subtle plan. When Monica wasn't looking, he discreetly swapped her sugar packet with one filled with salt. He smiled to himself. This was a chess game, and he was two steps ahead.
Later, Adam went on his mission to Chinatown. He found the specified stall and, sure enough, there was a small, dusty ring on a velvet cushion. It looked… old. He bought it for a pittance, but as he held it up to the light, he saw an inscription, something about a famous actress from the 1920s. "Oh my God. The System is giving me loopholes. It's a dating system, but the loopholes… wow. This isn't just a gift. This is a payday. I should probably get this appraised."
Back at Central Perk, Monica was introducing Alan to the group. He was, as she had described, perfect. He was a dentist, he had a good job, and he seemed genuinely nice. Everyone loved him, which was, of course, the problem.
"Oh, Alan, you're the best!" Monica said, beaming. "You get my sense of humor, you get my… competitiveness, and you don't put fake sugar in my coffee." She took a huge gulp of her coffee, expecting sweetness. Her eyes widened, her face contorted in a horrifying expression of pure disgust. She spat the coffee out into a napkin, her eyes narrowing at Adam. "Adam! Was that… was that salt?!"
Adam, sipping his own coffee, just winked at Chandler. "I don't know what you're talking about, Monica. Maybe your perfect boyfriend is just a little… bland."
The group laughed. Monica, however, was not amused. Her eyes held a deep, unyielding fury. "Oh, it is on, Adam. It. Is. On."