King Toe in 100 words

Tuesday is garbage day.Comes early. Often while I’m still in bed with my morning boner and sweet wispy dreams, I hear that stinky beast farting and groaning past my house on Euclid Avenue. It chokes the rushing to get to work by nine o’clock shit I’m going to be late today traffic, makes the dog bark and generally causes a small sphere of chaos. My toe is throbbing. I’ve got it wrapped up like King Tut. There was a broken pickle gar or beer glass in the bottom of the bag last night, sliced right through the big toe knuckle.