I used to be able to use my right big toe to pinch my girlfriend. I really liked that.

I cant anymore:

There was this stray cat and everytime I came home it was sitting on my porch. And everytime I would shoo it away it would run into my basement.

I did not like the stray cat. I detested the stray cat. Always on my porch and in my basement. It was not MY cat. I did not care that it was winter and the cat had nowhere warm. It wasnt my concern. I would throw things at it, scream, try to hurt the cat. I was always unsuccessful.

One day I came home and the stray cat was there. Positioned on the steps, there were three steps. It was on the second one.

A thought struck me then. If I could just kick the cat where it stood certainly it would kill it. Crush its ribs and smash its organs. The cat would be done. I would be free of it doing its business on my porch and in my basement. I latched onto the idea, after all the cat was close. I had a shot. That damned cat would be meeting its maker.

I wound up and kicked with all my might, SMASH THE CAT, smash, smash, I was looking forward to hearing the sickening crunch of it breaking as I compressed its innards. My leg swung, Tageting systems in my brain confirming that the cat was still in position to meet its demise! HA!

All of a sudden my foot connected with the back of the stairs, concrete. Somehow the cat had turned intangible. It was no longer between my foot and the stairs. it was on its way to the basement. I still got to hear the sickening crunch, but it was from the joint in my big toes compressing and the bones therein splintering.

I howled in pain and anguish while the cat trotted off to my basement off the porch.

I was reminded of this story by the parable of Lazarus(scroll to the bottom) and the nameless rich man. If only I had been more enlightened back then. Perhaps I could bend my toe now, instead of it being a bundle of broken bones.