The Last Toenail

Once a way back, a forgetful man cut his toenails and left the remains in a cup for cleanliness. The toenails stayed in that cup for a whole day, overnight, and in through the morning. The cup itself was a plastic summer juice cup with blue stripes. There were 21 shards of toenail in the cup.

On the first night, the toenails became aware. They discussed and they laughed with the bacteria that grew on them. They lived there overnight in a thousand little years, and life grew on them like moss on a tree. A forest of undiscovered life was growing – a neighborhood of life and progress in the making.

On the second day, the man came back for them, for the cup – to wash it (and them) out. It was a horrible scene. When the man tried get the toenails out, they were stuck in place. The life on the toenails had bonded to the cup. And yet, the man’s fury created a torrent as powerful as a thousand tsunamis. All the toenails were washed down the sick disgusting drainpipe… all except one.

One toenail stayed so fixed, the water could not move it. The man, in spite, tried to pick it out and it cut him deeply in the process. He was surprised, but remained persistent until it too fell from the cup. It eventually was flushed down with the rest of its kind, and the man suffered a terrible infection on the tip of his finger for about three months. The last toenail was satisfied in the final moments before darkness; satisfied it shed the blood of its maker, and of its destroyer.