centuries ago, seems like, me and the old man were skinnin honey locust poles, to stick in the ground (never rot ever) i was young, 8-9 somewhere in there, carrying a slick end out, him in the front, slipped out of my hands, and centered my right foot. took all the toenails and some of the meat, right off. . all i was wearing was moccasins ( boots in winter mocc’s or barefoot in summer.) he made me peel the mocc off just “to see”
faster than a copperhead under a warm potbellied stove, his hand swung around, grabbed a coal oil lamp on the porch rail, pulled the cork, and dumped coal oil on that raw foot.
(old mans cure all for everything, internal and external was coal oil, thus none of us were ever sick more than 1 time)
I hit the weeds, mocc in hand, faster than a butt shot bobcat.
lived out of the creek up the holler for 4 days. (took 2 to cool that foot off in the mud)
swear, bout dark when i slid in, I heard him mutter 'damnit" under his breath.
what was a lil more unsettling, I hear mom take another plate out of the cabinet…