The Foul-Mouthed Foot
Do not neglect your feet. They hate that.
“Hey, Foot.”
“Hey.”
“How’s it going down there?”
“Like you give a rat’s ass.”
“What? Why would you say that? I care about you.”
“Don’t give me that shit.”
“Come on, now. I asked how you’re doing, didn’t I?”
“Okay, asshole, so you asked how I was doing, for the first time since Nixon was president. Big fucking deal.”
“My, my, somebody has a severe case of the grumpies this morning.”
“Bend over a little bit farther so I can kick you in your fucking head.”
“Why do you say I don’t care about you? I got you new shoes, didn’t I? Don’t you like them?”
'“Fuck no, I don’t like the new shoes.”
“Well, why not?”
“‘Cause they hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, that’s why. You buy crappy, cheap-ass shoes and you feel like, I don’t know, proud of yourself for finding a deal. Guess you think going around with sore feet makes you some kind of tough guy. Dumb bastard.”
“Maybe they just need to get broken in.'‘
“THEY DON’T FIT, FUCKFACE! Haven’t you noticed that one of my toenails is black and I’m going to lose it any day now?”
“You’re going to lose a toenail? I had no idea.”
“Of course you don’t ‘cause you don’t give a shit.”
“Yes I do. Which one?”
“Which one what?”
“Which one is going to lose a nail?”
“The lieutenant.”
“What? The lieutenant? Which one is that?”
“Jesus Christ you’re stupid. The big toe is the captain of the toes, which makes the one next to it the lieutenant. Everybody knows that.”
“Well, I didn’t know it.”
“‘Cause you’re a fucking moron.”
“Well, I’m sorry. Maybe I have been a little neglectful. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“Yeah, right. Cut the shit. Just be honest. You couldn’t care less about the most important part of your miserable fucking body.”
“You’re wrong. I love both of you guys. You’re my foundation. But, come on, you must know that my big, valuable brain is the most important part of my body.”
“Your brain? That’s a goddamn joke. I can prove that your strong, beautiful feet are more important than your mushy little brain.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“Have you heard of the phrase, ‘shit-for-brains’?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll bet you hear it quite often. Have you heard of the phrase, ‘shit-for-feet’?”
“No.”
“Well there you go. It is not said because feet are too important to be disrespected like that. And, what is the most popular sport in America?”
“Football?”
“That’s right, genius. Football, not brainball, not headball, not craniumball. Football. You see?”
“Ah . . . h’mm . . . I don’t know, I might have to think on all that.”
“Yeah, well, don’t hurt yourself there, Dipshit.”
“Okay, so what can I do to make it up to you?”
“Do you really mean it? You’re not just bullshitting me?'“
“I really mean it. What do you need?”
“Well, throw away these horseshit shoes and get me a good, well-made shoe that actually fits. And, those gel insoles would be great, the Dr. Scholl’s, not some goddamn off brand you have a coupon for. No more of those two dozen for a dollar socks that you wouldn’t give to prisoners in San Quentin. A nice, long soak in some Epsom salts once in a while would be fantastic, too. And, get my bunions looked at by a real podiatrist, not some guy you sat next to on the fucking bus.”
“Okay, done. I want my feet to be happy, so I’m going to take care of this as soon as I can.”
“Thanks. I’ll believe it when I see it, though. In the meantime, go sit down somewhere. My arch is hurting like hell, and my bunions are barking.”
“Will do. I love you, foot.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, there’s something you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“Your big, valuable brain is defective.”
“Nah, that can’t be. It’s like the Corvette of brains, sleek and powerful. How could it possibly be defective?”
“Just when I think you could not get any more fucking stupid - listen Asswipe, haven’t you noticed that your big Corvette brain is making you believe that you are having a conversation with your foot?”
“Yeah, and . . .?”
“Think about it. You’re having a conversation with your fucking foot??”
“Oh . . . shit.”
“Yeah. Love you, too, Dumbass.”
