Thumbs up to the rythm

“Knock knock, who’s there?” He asked...but no one answered...”ok,ok, I’m sorry I was trying to be funny...I know you’re mad at me, can you open the door so we can talk”? After a while the door slowly opened...a mad voice said “What do you want knucklehead?”

“That’s really mean!” I said through tears. “You know I can’t help that my head is shaped like a giant fist. How would you feel having to trim your forehead thumbnail every day?”

The indignity of it all! One day I’m a perfectly normal human, the next, an abomination. I dropped my giant thumb of a head into my hands—it was mostly brittle fingernail at this point. Who had cast this wicked spell on me? Perhaps the beggar lady who tried to sell me a rose?

I sneezed- can a thumb sneeze?- and smoothed back the fingernail that was supposed to be my hair as best as I could. I couldn't just sit here wailing. I had to find that witch to get back my handsome features and then massacre all who knew of my pitiful state to wipe out rumors.

Using my whole body I signaled to some passing cars (use what you got, they say). A trucker took mercy on me and dropped me at the witch’s lair. I knocked on the door, using my knuckle-butt. She opened the door laughing. “So, you come begging for mercy?” She snarled.

I blinked. "No," I said, "I came to thank you. This knuckle-butt is the best that that's ever happened to me." I twerked against every hard surface, knocking out a rhythm that drove the neighborhood into a dancing frenzy. That's how my hinder became the world's greatest beatbox.