Last week, I wrote an entry about an evil blister of doom, which infected a friend of mine’s dad. She called me the other day to share some not-so-good news, followed by an almost hilarious story.
The Bad News: Her dad lost his toe. They had to chop the big toe off. It must be so weird to suddenly lost something that has been attached to your body for over 50 years. I wonder if his walk will change. I hope not.
The Good News: His spirit hasn’t been diminished at all. He’ll still kick your kid’s in the ear and then steal their Legos. He actually hasn’t been affected by it at all.
She called the nurses station to get a news scoop of her father’s status. The nurse than told this utterly hilarious, yet ultimately badass, story. “Well, you’re dad would be fine, if he just stayed in his bed.”
“What do you mean?” my friend asked.
“Well, just a few hours after the surgery, he got out of bed and walked outside to have a cigarette. But he shouldn’t have been walking yet… it opened up the wound and cause a lot of unnecessary bleeding. That’s no good.”
Man, just hours after getting his toe chopped off, dude gets up and walks to get a smoke. Fucking badassery all the way.
Smoking With 9 Toes (1/2008)
That’s probably the best picture I’ve ever drawn. Don’t get used to them being this good.