My Friend, the Tenderfoot

This isn’t about me. It’s about my friend, who is obviously an idiot. You don’t know him. He lives somewhere else and doesn’t have a Facebook account. I met him at Niagara Falls, which he apparently walked to. Did I mention he’s an idiot? Anyway, here’s the question:

Let’s say, hypothetically, you hurt your foot by walking too far in cheap dress shoes and then it swelled to 4x its normal size. Then the toes grew too tender to touch or walk on and you woke up every night feeling like battery acid was running through your foot like a lava lamp and that the bones were made of lies and dirty hits to the gut. Let’s say that in the three weeks since it happened the pain and swelling have decreased by about half, give or take the odd flare up. For arguments sake, assume that whiskey is sipped each night as a numbing agent and that dirt has been rubbed on it for obvious reasons. In theory, would you agree that things were moving along at a reasonable rate?

Please note, the shoes were thrown away after the fact, but they still looked pretty slick. Also, he does not have medical insurance.

Fun fact: My blog seems to have a theme over the past several posts and it involves feet. What’s up with that?

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