I have this “condition” my Father has dubbed “stink paw.”

You see, I wear these awful little mittens that keep my meathooks warm. But I have a theory. It goes something like this: Mom and Dad are too lazy and/or too afraid to deal with my fingernails and the mittens simply cloak this greenhorn parenting.

I understand their fear. My digits are small. My index finger makes a Lil’ Smoky sausage look like a commercial dirigible.

Either way, the mittens make my hands smell like my ass. Ergo, “stink paw.”