Kickass and gout
Kickass, the doorstop dog, passes along information from the keeper that for sheer mind-cleansing, along with gaining the surprise ability to assume a laser-like concentration, nothing beats a nighttime attack of gout.
With no warning whatsoever, in the middle of the night, a big toe, obviously smarting from a perceived lifetime of inadequate respect, explodes in a tantrum of urate crystals and revenge that causes the toe to burst into flames, thus turning an otherwise quiet bedroom into a little piece of hell complete with blasphemous whining.
Among life’s endless menu of annoying adventures for the keeper’s age group, the nighttime gout attack ranks right up there; and he will not be at all surprised if one night he is awakened by one of his feet causing him great pain as it struggles to try to get into his mouth.
He will solicit and get sympathy from Phyllis who has suggested treatment for both the keeper’s gout and his foot-in-the-mouth when it inevitably happens.