They were so small. They were so puny.
They were so small AND puny!
“(Sigh),” Ash looked forlornly at her size 5 feet. Not only were thy tiny, but also they smelled so, so clean. They had no stink to them at all. Not like her sister Danni’s mighty size 11 feet.
“…And then you would be Mrs. Claus!” the elderly woman in her bedroom concluded.
“What was that?” Ash asked her.
“My dear, why on Earth are you so obsessed with your feet?” she asked putting her hands on her hips. Ash looked at the woman, and she looked like who she claimed she was; Mrs. Claus. She looked like an old frumpy woman dressed for the holiday, like every Mrs. Claus in every Hallmark card an Coke ad.
“What? Pfft! I’m not-I’m not obsessed with feet-my feet-with any feet. I don’t have a foot fetish!” A cocked eyebrow made Ash reconsider her position on this matter. “Fiiiiiiine,” Ash threw her hands up, “when I was young, like 6 or something, my family took me to a circus. And there was this female clown. And she wore a very, I guess the phrase would be form fitting, and even that young I could see that she was attractive. Sexy. The only thing that was oversized on her was her feet. She wore the BIGGEST pair of clown shoes! To me they looked like they were ten feet long and five feet wide!”
“I doubt they were really that big,” Mrs. Claus said skeptically.
“I know, but they seemed to be that big. And when she came over to us, to do some trick, she stepped in elephant shit. Poop! Sorry about that. I meant poop.”
“Don’t worry dear, shit is the only word that can be used to clean up some of my toilet droppings.”
“Gross. Anyway as she stood in front of me all I could do is stare at how big her feet were and smell how bad they stank. And ever since then, big stinky feet have kind of been my thing. And it turns out that Danni was the one who ended up with the big stinky feet in the family.”
“And you’ve always been jealous of her,” Mrs. Claus said sympathetically.
“Yeah, yeah. So what were you saying about that ring you want to give me?”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------
“Get your canoes off the table!” a loud roar preceded a stinging brought across the balls of both Ash’s feet, startling her awake. Her surprise led to some arm flailing which caused her to tip backwards onto her back, her big clownish feet sticking straight up in the air, one Varsace Python pump dangling off her giant toilet paper tube sized big toe.
“What? What?” Ash scrambled to her feet. She saw an angry Santa Claus, and gulped. “Hey just resting my eyes and taking a load off my feet.
“A load off your feet? Your feet are large enough that they could carry the load of all the toys for all the little boys and girls at Christmas!”
“…Sorry?...” Ash shrugged half-heartedly.
“Ash we need to talk,” Santa told her as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“About what?”
“About you being Mrs. Claus and you having those big, wide, sweaty, stinky feet.”
“My feet?” she gulped again.
“Yes, we need to talk in my office as these elves continue to bake the cookies we need for charity.”
Ash nodded and began to walk out of the kitchen. She caught eye contact with one elf as her feet slapped against the floors, and the elf looked quite pleased to lose Ash’s foot smell from the kitchen. Ash would remember that.
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