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I was awake for approximately forty-five seconds this morning when the following happened:

I got out of bed, grabbed the two glasses of water that were sitting on the nightstand, and headed for the kitchen.

The glasses of water...

About two steps into my journey, I stepped on my belt, which I usually throw on the floor next to our bed every night before I hop in.

The belt...

Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal. Sadly, today is far from normal.

Excruciating pain shot through the heel of my left foot. While hobbling back toward the bed (and spilling water all over our bedroom in the process) I looked down to see my belt trailing behind me like a rogue piece of toilet paper.

I had stepped directly on my belt buckle; more specifically, directly on the sharp metal tooth of the bastard.

The sharp culprit...

Finally realizing what was going on, I screamed and fell on the bed, spilling even more water on my journey down.

I quickly set the glasses back on the nightstand and pulled my left foot up onto my right knee. Sticking out of my heel and staring back at me was Elvis.

I yanked the metal hook from my foot, the blood giving one final squirt on the buckle as I pulled it away. Trying not to step on my left heel, I made my way into the bathroom and threw a huge bandage on the wound.

The hole in my foot...


Hello, Wednesday. How long you in town for? Twenty-four hours? Yippee.

For more bloody stories about foreign objects in my foot, click here,


Old Poop!