Know what that is?
Or maybe you need a better contrast than on my kitchen counter that looks like it exists underground with no light, where the Hillbilly family is evolving into a species with no eyeballs. Try this one:
Okay. So I'm still in a subterranean lair that never sees the light of day. That's a phone issue. Sweet Gummi Mary, my toilet-dipped phone could probably do better with an indoor photo. Doesn't matter at the moment anyway, because my gmail app on my hand-me- down phone from the #1 Son is not sending pictures to myself. So I can't get any new ones, as they are QUEUED for days at a time.
Anyhoo...did you figure out that was a nail clipper?
Not just ANY nail clipper. That happens to be a special one. No, not because it's broken. Because it belonged to The Pony. Well...as much as any toiletry item could belong to the haphazardly-groomed Pony. It's the pair of clippers he kept in T-Hoe, on the console, for randomly clipping his TOENAILS in the car.
Yeah. I hate feet.
Apparently, this set of clippers got stuck on a lottery ticket I grabbed up off the console to cash in the other day. Unbeknownst to me. When I came out of the gas station chicken store, 44 oz Diet Coke and new scratchers gripped in my left hand, and opened T-Hoe's driver's door with my right hand that held the clicker...these three pieces fell out. Seems like they had been closed in the door when I slammed it. I swear. No way could I ever have gotten that timing down intentionally.
I know that I might as well throw those clipper pieces away. But it looks like maybe they could be put back together. If Steve Austin could be rebuilt, why not The Pony's toenail clippers? I guaran-dang-tee you that Farmer H could do it for less than six million dollars, man!
Anyhoo...the pieces are laying on the kitchen counter. Just like any implements that have regularly been in contact with feet SHOULD be. I haven't remembered yet to ask Farmer H if he can fix it.
I'm pretty sure Farmer H is going to tell me I have issues...