That Was Toe-Curlingly Close

(I’m standing next to the door talking to my mom, and my dad bursts through the door. The door slides over my bare toes, and stops. I try to pull myself free, but I’m stuck.)

Dad: “I need to tell that—”

Me: “Argh! Help!”

Dad: “Move! What are you doing?”

Mom: “For God’s sake, help her!”

(He finally gets that I’m stuck and tries to lift the door, but it’s no good. My mom, who usually is calm, is hysterical.)

Mom: “Get her out! Take her to the hospital!”

(Finally, I pull free, and all my toes are scratched up bad and bleeding. I wiggle them a bit without pain.)

Dad: “She’s fine.”

Mom: “No, she’s not; all of them are broken! All!”

(My toes weren’t broken, which was lucky, since that would’ve been expensive and we were dirt poor. But I never let my Dad forget about that time he nearly cost us a lot!)