Sunday, July 11, 2004

One, toe, three!

I had a startling thought while eating my lunch. In all my life I have never counted my toes. From nursery school upwards we count on our fingers but our foot digits are sadly neglected.

The moment the thought struck me I pulled off my shoes and socks, which upset the staff in Pizza Hut, and I counted them one by one.

You will be pleased to hear I have ten.

On each foot.

1 comment:

Brooklyn Boy said...

It's nice to have toes. I used to have toes. Then what happened? you may ask. That's a good question. It's a very good question. I do love toes though. Pizza too.

I remember when I used to have pizza and toes. It made me so happy. So fucking happy. I used to sometimes dip my toes in the fucking pizza and drip the hot cheese into my mouth. It would go all down my front, stimulating my nipples. These were the kinds of experiences I once had, once upon a time, when I had toes, and pizza.

But now? Now I sit on a throne of gold, polishing shoes I will never wear. An empty pizza oven on either side of me, crying tears of pepperoni, tears of anchovies, tears of grease. Oh spluttermonkey, why must you remind me of such things? What gives? Where do you get off? Where do you get on? How is it that you have 20 toes and I have none? Did you take my toes? Who shot J.R.? And other questions I would love to ask you, if only I could.