House Marks

The desert winter can be harsh. There are times when it I so wicked one is compelled to put their socks on. Since I am a tough guy, I am going without socks this morning. Out into the garage I step to retrieve the almond milk for this morning’s Americano, and I am stabbed with a razor sharp ice pick straight to my bone. Ok – perhaps that over states the moment I stepped on a scorpion who met the assault with a sting on the bottom of my middle toe. A scorpion sting is some sort of poison that is basically a cross between Cobra venom and Agent Orange. And for weeks I can trace the nerve that leads from my big toe to somewhere just below my ass. Because that little bastard lit up that neural pathway like so much napalm.