Monkey toes

You know how sometimes you are on Facebook or maybe the general feed for Pinterest or maybe just in a Google search and all of a sudden your eyeballs get assaulted by something you didn’t want to see? Maybe a word, maybe a picture. But something that will get plastered in your brain even though you didn’t intend to see it? Let me tell you about a text I got from my brother the other day.

It was a picture, with no explanation. It involved blood and his monkey toes. (We say that he has monkey toes because they are freaky long and very useful for picking things up…. I think it’s a genetic abnormality. Meaning I might also have them. But that is neither here nor there.) Now, I’m super nice (unlike my brother) so I’m going to TELL YOU that I’m about to give you the honor of seeing a screenshot of the atrocity he assaulted my innocent eyes with. 

Wait for it….

Wait for it….

Oh snap. 

How does a grown man end up with this kind of injury, texting pictures of it to his sister while sitting at the doctors office waiting to find out if his toe is broken? Soccer. I asked him if he was wearing shoes, and he assured me that he was. I have my doubts.

What’s the Winnie the Pooh reference, you ask? Oh, that. Well, I’ve already told this story, and while there’s not a picture of it (you’re welcome!) there IS a blog post. Read this and you will understand why I would jump to conclusions about Winnie’s possible involvement in the maiming of my brother’s toe. 

Now please, take a moment and replace the memory of the mangled monkey toe with something pleasant. Like frolicking unicorns. Carry on. 

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