I fear I’ve broken my toe. By doing something wild and exciting, you might presume? No, by walking through my perfectly normal and boring kitchen. A ninja chair claimed casualty to my fourth toe on my right foot. I have jiu jitsu tonight so said toe is going to have to Wo-man up. It’s protesting in deep shades of purple but I question its sincerity in keeping me off of it. My feet on the whole are privy to my refusal to acknowledge their turmoil, but this particular toe has yet to solely carry the burden of injury, thus making it ill-prepared to cope with the abuse and neglect that I will inflict upon it.
My second toe still recalls the Freibergs disease of my youth and how not even a cast could provide respite for the rare and painful affliction. I have overheard the mocking that 2nd Toe is lashing upon Fourth Toe for a measly bump on the head and it isn’t pleasant.
Farther up, Metatarsals(who in a shocking and quite frankly passive aggressive protest, have changed their name to Meta World Peace) are airing their agreement that a rugby injury and subsequent cast were spaced out half a season. Metatarsals also recalled a crack to the them while kicking another human in the elbow and then again, to be sure they were actually broken and not just feigning injury.
They all laugh at Fourth Toe’s ninja chair assassin because, in reality, it was a household chair with delusions of grandeur that sought expression of its misuse as a clothes rack on poor little Fourth Toe. It could have happened to any one of them. I got a hideously cartoon yellow paint job on my toes during a pedicure a few days ago and I fear it made them easy pickings for the ninja chair. The purple bruising certainly made Fourth Toe more festive in a rambunctious Mardi Gras hue, but I think it may be a mere consolation prize at this point. So, please keep Fourth Toe in your prayers today.