Toe Farm
The toe farmer led a tour group through his toe farm, which grew toes.
They walked through his field. The toes were either side of them, rising up toward the sun like ears of corn from another kind of farm - the big toes taller than a man, the pinkies no higher than a toddler’s bellybutton.
“It would be much more efficient to only grow big toes,” the farmer explained, “but try as we might, they grow only in sets of five, from little to big.”
The women tsked, and the men murmured.
“As on the foot” he said, “so in the soil.”
Atop an uncut nail nearby, a crow was perched. It cawed, and the tourists, eager to escape the midday sun, continued on, bare feet sinking into fertile dirt, while the farmer, wearing boots, followed behind.