bloody mess

This afternoon one of our more annoying chatty patrons, a man of about 68, approached the desk covered in blood waving around a straightened out wire hanger. I like to keep a safe distance between myself and a bleeding person, 3 miles is about right. Apparently he locked his keys in the car and when the hanger didn't do the trick, he broke the window with a rock and the momentum carried his arm right on through the glass. I went to the workroom where we keep the first aid kit and came back with a few items I thought might be helpful: Band-Aids, an antiseptic wipe, and a rolled up bandage and safety pin in a plastic bag. I placed them on the edge of the desk and then ran around the corner to safety, all the while he's chattering and waving the wire like he's conducting the Ernest T. Bass rock throwing symphony.
About 5 minutes later he comes back a little calmer and tries to hand me the bandage. When he notices that my hands are remaining glued to my sides, he tells me it's okay, he didn't use it. I decided to brush it into the trash with a pencil because I can't imagine telling someone, "A bloody man once took this into the men's room, but I’m sure it’s fine.”