The Sqashed Heel

This is Twinkle, here, with a story of blood, guts, and gore. If any of you experience upset stomachs at the sight of blood or frog dissections, don't read any further. You know who you are. No need to throw out names.

Anyway, it had been an uneventful day. The usual amount of school, the usual amount of chores, the usual amount of shopping at Costco. Then, the Mom dropped me off at my tennis lesson. Then, the bomb dropped, the balloon popped, and the wheel rolled all at once. Before I go on, please review the following picture.

Kinda blurry, right? Well, the situation was not blurry. It was as clear as something that has nothing in its way. Nothing was in the Mom's car's way, right? Correction. My heel (complete with a tennis shoe and sock) experienced an amazing pressure as the car tire rolled smoothly over it. Please observe the following conversation.

Me: Ouch. OUCH! OWOWOWOWOWOWOWO!!!!!!

The Mom (panic in her voice): What's wrong?

Me: YOU ROLLED OVER MY HEEL!

The Mom: I did? I DID?!?!

Me: YEAH. OW!

The Mom: Let me...what do you want me to do?

Me: Move! NO, NOT FORWARDS...BACKWARDS! (The car rolls hesitantly backward.)

Me (much relieved and eager to go to tennis): Okay, thanks! Bye!

The Mom: Wait! Are you okay? Let me see.

Me: It's okay. See? (The Mom gasps) I'm late! Bye!

The Mom: Er, okay, bye!

Needless to say, I recovered and there isn't even a black mark on my heel. Crisis averted. Danger avoided. And victim recovered. It was a good day.

~Twinkle

P.S. So sorry for the wacked-out letter sizes! Something weird happened.