When I was a kid I had a sister born with the toenail on the right big toe growing on the bottom of her toe instead of the top. Once she got to walkin', I remember hearing her toe as it tapped along the magnoleum floor in the kitchen. That's how she got the name, Tappy Toe.
When things was bad, you could hear that toe: tap.....tap.....tap.....tappppp. But when things was good, like momma was baking a big chocolate cake, Tappy would be dancing around so much on that magnoleum, it sounded like somebody teasing a starving poodle with a stray cat.
As we got older, Tappy's toenail became famous. She growed it out so long, people used to call her whenever they'd run off in the ditch. That's because once she pushed her toenail into that red mud, she got better traction than two John Deeres and a team of mules. And back in the seventies, when Effie's a Go-Go was the only disco in the county, you'd play hell trying to find anyone in the holler who hadn't took at least one big ol' snort of coke from Tappy's generous toenail. And to see that girl spinning like a greased top on the dance floor--man, that was a sight to behold.
One day, while Tappy was out back tryin' to get the hogs slopped before the weather turned, a bolt of lightnin' came down and struck her right between the ears. As luck would have it, the lightnin' bolt grounded out through her famous toenail. The toenail was blowed out with such force it embedded itself in the side of the barn, way up on the wall-just under the eaves. People still come around to take a gander at it and mutter about the legend that was Tappy Toe.
Tappy though, she all depressed, pining away for the old days and thinking of her big comeback. She probably wishes she woulda listened to me when I told her she may need something to fall back on one day. I remember tellin' her years ago to take care of that tusk growin' out the side of her nose. But no one ever listens to me, and of course, it done went and rotted off by now.