While she slowly stirred her steel-cut oats, Berniece glanced down and saw something red on the top of her foot. She awkwardly lifted her leg and studied it. Dagnabbit! Floyd and those confounded long toenails. It was like going to sleep with a razor blade! She had yelled at him over and over to cut those suckers, but to no avail.
That's it! She plotted out the evening ahead. She imagined her weapons of choice--toenail cutters and an emery board. With a clamp-hold grip of her bony hand, she'd hold down those old feet and make short work out of Floyd's talon-like, yellowed nails.
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