About a Foot

Foot/Fut.
Ernest Samuel Llime - May 2009, Woodhaven

I caught a fragment of a conversation and it went like this:

" ..... your foot got fucked baby."

So, me and my international homonym lexiconed mind (which is a nice way of saying that where in my youth I used to be a polyglot, I can now safely proclaim that my mind is filled with a language soup of many ingredients,) summarized at once as foot/fut. I know, I am using a lot of words to explain that this homonym foot/fut contains the entire sentence. This one word means "was" in French, "fuck" in Romanian and foot (you know, pedal appendage) in English.

To add a little more insult to this injury to your thinking processes, I've conjured a few imaginary scenarios and here they are:

1. This person's foot was humped by a very small dog.
2. He/she indulged in some very perverted sexual practices (disgusting, but hard to take your eyes off of.)
3. A few years ago, in New Jersey this guy actually had the wrong leg (and the foot that goes with it,) amputated.
4. It could just be a severe case of athlete's foot.
5. Very small shoes, squeezing the be-Jesus out of that foot.

The rest of the conversation could have gone on like this:

1. This person's foot was humped by a very small dog.
Yeah man, can you believe that stupid Chihuahua. if the owner wasn't that blonde, stacked and obviously bothered, I would have kicked it all the way into next week. Unfortunately, all I could do was drool because her mother came home unexpectedly. So my foot is the only part of me that got fucked, but we have another date on Thursday - wish me luck.

2. He/she indulged in some very perverted sexual practices (disgusting, but hard to take your eyes off of.)
Well, it was after the office party ended; we were all quite blitzed and somehow, this redhead ended up in my flat. I can't quite remember how the conversation managed to decline into a serious debate about the pro and cons of foot fetishism, but before you could say Annie Sprinkle, one of my big toes was lodged deep inside her vagina. I know it sounds disgusting, but I couldn't take my eyes off the action. Well, there's a good side and a bad side to this strange incident. The bad side is that my foot is the only part of me that got fucked. We probably both passed out after that because I can't remember anything else. The good side is that a. she was not a co-worker, but a friend of one. b. She was gone when I woke up. c. She left her phone number. I hope I'm not confusing the bad side with good side.

3. A few years ago, in New Jersey this guy actually had the wrong leg (and the foot that goes with it) amputated.
Yeah, I can't believe that damn podiatrist would do something like this. But, let's look at he bright side: True, my foot looks so disgusting now, that I don't think I'll ever go to the beach or spa for that matter fact, ever again. I can still walk though! And, with the money I'm going to get from this butcher after my lawyer is done with him, I'll be living the life of Riley, no to mention that I will be able to afford some more surgical procedures, so who knows, I might go to the beach again after all. Besides, it could have been much worse, I could have been that guy from Jersey.

4. It could just be a severe case of athlete's foot.
Tell me about it; ever since I was a kid, whenever I'd take my shoes off, like in gym or something, every one tried hard to squeeze into the other end of the room. And it got a lot worse as I grew older, so imagine my surprise when I managed to talk Stella into going to that motel with me. To call what did happen a perverted and insane sexual encounter would be the understatement of the century. Granted, the century is still quite new and there may be others that may trump this one, but I'm in love baby - nothing would stand in my way. What are the chances of a man with bromodrosis* like me ever meeting another woman born with anosmia*?
*bromodrosis - also known as stinkfoot
*anosmia - lacking a sense of smell

5. Very small shoes, squeezing the be-Jesus out of that foot.
All right, you do have a point, but on the positive side of the scale, these tiny little shoes, have changed the way I walk and I when I wear them all the guys stare at me. I must admit that it is very flattering even though I pretend not to notice. So, I take them out of the closet once a month or so and put them on my feet. I walk to the corner store, or the restaurant on the next block and when I come home, I take them off and let me tell you, the pleasure associated with removing my shoes is as close to a taste of heaven as I can ever come to in this life.

The response that the first guy could make to something this ridiculously outrageous could only be:

"Boy, oh boy - your foot got fucked real good - and perhaps your mind got fucked as well. You should definitely see a shrink."