The other day, just to be an asshole, I slipped off one of my cute little ballet flats at work and shoved one of my feet into a co-worker’s personal space.
“I swear,” I said, “if I’d been alive 2016 years ago, I’d have been able to meet Jesus because my nasty feet could’ve totally passed as leprosy…see those two open sores on the bottom?” I asked, getting my foot a little closer to her nose.
“In fact,” I continued, “I’m not entirely certain that’s NOT what this is.” I lowered my foot, pretending to think for a moment. “Has leprosy been completely eradicated?”
I shrugged, replacing my shoe. “Ah, well. What can you do? In any case, I can’t wait to show off these tootsies in my summer sandals!”
And because she’s just as much of an asshole as I am and—even better—knows how to deal with my dickhead, hypochondriac ass, it only took about 2 seconds for her to pull up this link on her phone, effectively convincing me that I’m a leper whose feet are about to fall off.
Did you guys know that leprosy is alive and well in some places of the world? And that apparently—according to the Risk and Exposure tab in the link given above—armadillos are big carriers?
And while I haven’t had sex with any armadillos (lately), I can’t rule them completely out. You see, my husband is from the country, and we have a sort of “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” policy in place for what he uses in his dishes when it’s his turn to cook dinner.
So basically, what I’m saying is, Holy shit.
Holy shit, I’m a leper.
Or else my co-worker knows exactly how to play me by taking that seed of a leper joke that started in my own head as a way to shock her and gross her out, watering it and cultivating it, and walking away, letting my hypochondriac brain take it and run with it as she knew that it would.
Well played, asshole co-worker. Well played.