By The Regulator
I think I'll wear my sandals today. Yeah. That'd be good. I think I'll wear my sandals today, with no socks. I think I'll let my unconstricted toes breathe in the pure, fresh air; and I'll breathe in that invigorating miasma of my cannabis sativa. Yes, I think I'll wear my sandals today.

What's that you say? You don't want to look at my cute little footsies? You don't enjoy the sight of my gnarled and distorted pedal phalanges? So what if my toe knuckles are bent weirdly at odd angles. Who cares about that mysterious green fungus on my jagged and dirty toenails. What's the big deal if I exude a hardly noticeable aroma of sickening funk. Superficial things like these pale in comparison to the benefits to you of my wearing sandals.

You do enjoy staring at my naked feet for hours on end, do you not? Of course you do. Can you not smell the sweet perfume of my biological tools of transportation? Can you not feel them even now caressing your sensitive genitals? Can you not imagine your wet and agile tongue working its way between my toes and underneath the bottom of my concentrated pedal deliciousness? Mmm...

Don't worry, I understand your sick and twisted desires. And it is for you, my poor, poor, pedophilial readers, that I will make this sacrifice today. I know how excited I've just gotten you, and how could I, in good conscience, let you down today, unfulfilled? Never fear, loyal Undergrounders, for I think I'll wear my sandals today. Yes indeed, I think I'll wear my sandals today.

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