My Pinky-Toe Story

Upon returning home today from the FanExpo weekend (I will share my thought on that in another post), my pinky toe had a untimely collision with the door frame of my bedroom. It stung like a motherfucker but it's not the first time I've kicked a door frame, so I paid it no mind. With a mild stinging sensation on my left pinky toe, I continued to my washroom to pee. With bladder emptied, I decided it'd be a good time to take off my socks. I was poised to pull the left sock off, but then i felt something wet.

Weird! I don't think I peed on myself. My aim is worthy of a dead-eye shooter of the Western era. If there were a pissing-duel, I'm certain I would hit my challenger in the eye before he could unzip.

So I brought my fingers into focus and found 'red stuff' on them. That's when the profound moment hit me; my pinky toe is either dead or mortally wounded. Let's end the suspense right here and pull off the damn sock, shall we?
It's indeed covering in the 'red stuff' and my toe nail had split in half. once I stopped the bleeding I realized half of it was flapping at the breeze, only joined at the cuticle, so I took it off. The best way I could describe my pinky toe's current condition is as follow-- Do you know how Harvey Dent looked when we found him in the hospital in 'Dark knight'? kinda like that!

so there's probably a good chance my pinky-toe will harbour this grudge over what I did to it until it goes mad and exact its revenge on me in the near future.