De-Pinkied

What earthly purpose does the pinky-toe serve, I have often wondered... well.... no. I haven't wondered. Who wonders about such things.? Anyway, the fact of the matter is that I have been neglecting my pinky-toe for the past thirty odd years, and during the course of this time, it has reminded me of it's existence by steering the entire foot towards obstacles, with great velocity, severely pain inducing by nature. By letting out a steady stream of completely unmentionable swear words that would have made Muttai-Bun Aandaalu blush, I would navigate the mind away from the pain.
My pinky-toe like any other self respecting toe, has tried to stick on for all these years with a hope that it will get it's recognition, one day or the other. But a few weeks ago, it seemed to have given up. It had been awfully quiet of late, and had even stuck on dead silent, the other day, when I leapt over the dining table, paying no heed to the huge table legs, to grab a vessel containing some hot Kadalai Urundai that the cook was just bringing out for the folks. It was a picture perfect opportunity for some mashed pinky-toe-Aandalu-blushing-swearing episode, but didn't happen.
And then, yesterday, the pinky-toe, just dropped the nail. By nail, I mean the entire nail, the proud crown, the calcite body and the determined root. It was a sad day, for all the toes, to see one of their brothers get transferred to assisted support. The pinky-toe had lost all vestiges of diginity, by baring itself dropping the nail, and it seemed to be waiting for the final call from Toergum (Toe heaven).
I have preserved the nail, in memory of the proud days when the pinky-toe would go for the glorious ride, sticking out of the hole in my socks. I will cherish the nail for all time, a reminder of all that I am in real life - a proud, but utterly useless extension of flesh and bone.
(I am going to try feeding the nail to the cat, see what happens.)