My fingers are so crooked and my knuckles doggone sore. Arthritis has moved in, and she is running up the score.
There ain’t no use complaining I’m a product of my source. ‘Cuz you’re gonna smash some fingers when working with a horse.
I’ve broke a finger, smashed a thumb, while nailing on a shoe from a horse with attitude who stomped my fingers black and blue.
Then later on in years old Mother Nature kicks it in. She brings her friend arthritis. Makes those ouches hurt like sin.
I remember back when I was young, I’d watch my grandma walk. She used a stick that looked to me like oversized corn stalk.
Her fingers were so crooked she could barely hold her cane. She said the soreness in her hands would drive you near insane.
Well, the other day while I was napping in my easy chair, my grandson lifted up my hand. He drew a dumbstruck stare.
He gathered up his wits. He weren’t about to be discrete. Said, “Your fingers are so crooked, I wonder how you eat?”
I patted my big belly and explained no need to fuss. Though crooked fingers, I still eat enough for both of us.
But then I showed a crooked finger’s use of many wonders. It’s good for picking your nose because it gets around the corners.
And after seeing what my crooked finger does so well. My grandson’s eyes were wide and couldn’t wait for Show and Tell.
He said he’d tell his class what Grandpa’s crooked fingers do. And when they got much older their’s would do the same thing too.
I told him, “Run that past your mom. We might get in some trouble. If no one likes your Show and Tell, she’ll thump you on the noodle.
So, I heard him ask his father ’bout the Show and Tell new plan. His father said, “Your grandpa is the craziest old man.”
My grandson never got permission from his mom that day. Was the Show and Tell, about my finger really worth the pay?
Well, Show and Tell was Tuesday and today is Saturday. I haven’t heard a word. Is trouble headed back my way?
