FRANKENFOOTER
Fate is funny. As soon as I say Sayonara to hospitals, Jack’s toe has a run-in with a 4X6 steel beam, essentially crushing Leftie Big Bumble Boy.
Just before knocking Jack out, his surgeon confidently said, “I can’t determine from your operation where you’re going to be in three, five, or ten years, but I’m not worrying about this toe dying … Necessarily.”
Five pins and a two-hour operation later, one very loopy Jack lay in recovery consuming crackers and water and insisting, “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

“It’s still numb from being anesthetized,” the nurse flatly said. “Don’t worry, it’ll hurt.”

Jack has to stay off his left foot for six weeks. But no worries, he’ll almost be two-footed when the restaurant opens. Almost.