Me again

Home again home again, jiggety jig. Here I come riding on a big fat pig. You may or may not know the old folk song. What is it with piggies anyway? And feet? I just recently realzed that the piggie that went to market wasn't there to shop. Oh no no no. Piggie gonna be a bacon buttie. With brown sauce, if I know my Brits. Yeah, my foot's giving me gyp again. Left foot is a #14, right foot is a #10. I'm an asshole, I freely admit it. I'll go into Walmart and buy a pair of shoes from 2 different boxes in different sizes. I just recently snapped to a...thing. Old Jeff Beck Group recording I have on vinyl. 'Rock My Plimsoll'. Well, I KNOW what a plimsoll is, right? It's that line on the outside of a ship which indicates how heavily laden it is. Rock my plimsoll, baby. Like a ship in the water. Lovely image, innit? BUT NO! It's a SHOE! A canvas shoe, like PF Flyers, Cons, or Vans. Shake my sneakers sugar! I feel, somehow, the less for this bit of insight. But an insight, once inseen, will linger forever in that vast warehouse that pleases itself to call itself my brain. I don't NEED this shit! Behold my Unicorn Fist! Anyway, back to more interesting things, to wit, my left foot (should make a movie. What? IT'S BEEN DONE? See 'Unicorn Fist, supra.) Hurts like the Dickens. And this bothers me no end. The pain? I have a pretty high pain threshold. I go in to Ben Taub Trauma and my foot's half ripped off, and say 'it hurts', they know not to offer a 'Narcos!' (sounds like a breakfast cereal, dunnit?), move directly to a double dilaudid plus 100 ml iced vodka. As the interns are vomiting. Not that. It's the phrase 'like the Dickens'. Ol' Chuck, bless his heart, wrote to make money. There may have been a muse involved, but mostly covering his rent. Penny-a-word, for serials. Every week. So they wandered on and on. And on. And on. So we end up with the Twisted Oliver, or Miss Havisham. That is why I say 'my foot hurts like the Dickens'.