Snotty Toes

If my feet could talk, I bet they’d tell me they hated my guts. I bet they’d put in a transfer to another human and leave me. At night they’d talk to each other about how pushy and ridiculous I am and how they are SURE other humans are much nicer to their feet. Their conversation might go something like this:

“Lefty, how are you tonight?”
“I’m tired, Righty. So tired.”
“Yeah, me too. It’s Jane. What is up with her anyway?”
“She wants to run a faster marathon, man. And she is going to kill us in the process.”
“That’s for sure. My tendons are so tight it isn’t funny. And when I complain about them, she sits me on ice! I hate that. I go numb.”
“That’s nothing, Righty, she put me in ice water the other day. It was horrible!”
“Man, that’s awful.”
“You’re tellin’ me! And what is with the greasy stuff her husband puts on her feet at night. That stuff is gross.”
“Well, at least she got a massage and pedicure yesterday. That was nice.”
“That was nice. I thought the massage might have helped me some, and the pedicure was great. All that warm, swirly water.”
“It would have been perfect if she has not painted us snot green.”
“It isn’t snot green, so much as mint.”
“Lefty, you are blind. It’s snot.”
“I think she did it to match her running outfit.”
“As if anyone is gonna see us while she runs.”
“Good point.”(Pause as they are taken to the kitchen)
“Lefty, what is she getting out of the freezer?”
“Man! It’s that stupid ice pack!”
“Oh great. Prepare for hypothermia.”
“No kiddin’.”(They sigh and wish for the tropics)
“So, Righty, when is this marathon we’ve got to run.”
“In a few days.”
“WHAT?”
“Yep. I think it is Saturday.”
“Man, I don’t know if I am ready for that yet.”
“Well, you’d better get ready cause she is going to give it all she’s got.”
“How do you know that?”
“She is always talking about minutes per mile and stretching and cross training and shoes, haven’t you been listening?”
“No. I’ve been freezing.”

Poor guys.