Gout's got me down, but at least I wasn't born with 8 legs

I stand at work all day. At some point my foot began to hurt yesterday. I have no idea why. It began to hurt quite badly. If I was a girl I would have cried. It began to hurt right in the middle of one of those dreaded Western Union transactions.

"I'll need a local address for you sir."

"No, you don't."

Ok. I argued a little bit more with the guy. I told him that it was the policy of this store, not Western Union for him to leave a local address. But my fourth toe felt like it had bone cancer.

My ex-roomie has the Gout. He drinks way too much. I drink way too much. I can't think of any other reason, (other than the Bone Cancer) that my foot should hurt. I must have the Gout too. I have to stop drinking. If I stop drinking I will soon have to kill most of the people I meet in my customer service line. That's ok/I am getting moved to cashier anyway.

So I've got gout or bone cancer. My foot has swollen to three times it size. I can feel the restricted flow of blood in my little toe. Each individual red blood cell squeezing into my foot snaps my attention away from the really interesting things in life. Like an 8 legged girl. Born in India. (Where else?) 8 legs. That's like twice as many as a human quadruped. And Vladimir Putin covets all 8 of her legs. Icky! Vladdy, stay away form her you sicko.