#wwtbd

Today is National wiggle your toes day, which makes me think of the many times I was going through hell and would quote The Bride in this amazing scene. After wiggling my toes I would get up to face work harassment, stalkers, having no money, police, and so much more! "Now, let's get these other piggies wiggling!"

“Mama, no.” The fingers tightened around his wrist, nails digging into his forearm. The young boy hiccuped between his sniffles and tried again to pull away. He was met with resistance, the grip vice-like and holding fast. “Sweet child, hush your tears. This won’t take long.”  The brand glowed orange and hot, twirled between fingers. Mama’s nose wrinkled up as she inspected the iron, tongue clicking against her teeth. “Is it going to hurt, Mama?” “Yes, my dear boy. It’s going to hurt very, very much.” -- Theodore rubbed his wrist, knees tucked to his chest as he occupied the dirt floor of the main house. Hours later and he could still feel the burn of the iron. He traced the same symbol into the dirt, the numbers crooked. Mama’s shadow fell over him and she knelt. Her expression was of compassion, practically beaming. “Oh, Teddy, you did so well.” Her voice was lilting as she tucked her dress against her ankles, modestly. “It hurt,” the boy balked, and his mother nodded.  “There is a strength in suffering, my son. It is a very, very important lesson. You- you will do great things, Teddy.” The boy made a face, confused. “I will?” “Of course you will! You want to help me, don’t you? You want to do something important with me, Teddy?” “Is it.. is it something good?” His eyes darted back to the iron brand again, skeptically. “It is. It is very, very good my son. It will be our secret. And then, we can surprise your father when he comes home! Are you ready, Theodore? You -do- want to help me, don’t you?” She leaned close, waiting for an answer. The boy ignored the sting in his wrist for a moment, but didn’t seem convinced. “I guess so... I guess I can help.” “Oh, wonderful! What a good boy you are! Come with me- let’s get started.”

We often ignore the initial signs of danger until it’s upon us. It starts as a faint prickle on the back of the neck that graduates into paranoia until it’s flashing red in the mind’s eye. It’s capital letters in neon, like nails on a chalkboard but twice as loud. This little voice that waits in the recesses of the mind until the alarm sounds- it’s screaming. You already saw the shadows and passed it off as a mere delusion, a trick of the exhaustive path you took, dehydration perhaps. As you went further, the shadows grew longer and more sinister. What you mistook for old creaking trees and animals in the brush were footsteps, and they were tracking right to you. You never stood a chance. Now the threat is real, and so sound the sirens screaming to run, to hide, to fight. Tangled up in your own footsteps, your mind races to prepare for any of these- but there’s nowhere to hide, and you can’t run forever. It’s time to fight- so you turn and face the flutter of white robes and the red eyes and it’s... just a boy. Your shoulders relax, and you drop your guard.. And that’s when he smiles. It’s too white, and too clever, and you know what his eyes have seen because you’ve seen all of it too, in a place some years ago, in another lifetime and everything in your body turns cold. It’s then you know you’ve made a mistake. A very, very terrible mistake. Forget fighting; you’ll be lucky to even survive.

Shit... at least one person in all of those is dead....

Probably get a moose drunk and hire a psychic midget as a court jester. that's what.