One evening aat dinner, Hand, Foot, and Tongue got into a heated argument over who had the toughest job. "I have the toughest job," said Hand. "Everyday I work from sunup to sundown. I button shirts. I tie shoes. I hold the spoon and fork to feed all of us. I have to be strong enough to punch with a fist, and gentle enough to pat a baby. I definitely have the toughest job." "No you dont," said Foot. " I have the toughtes job. " Everyday I have to carry all of you. And I'm not complaining of anything, but I usually have to do it in the dark- stuck in a smelly sock and laced in a shoe. I have the toughes job." Then Tongue spoke up. " I am a fleshy muscular organ attached to the floor of the mouth. I help in both speech and taste. I start the process of digestion by moving food into position to get ripped and mashed and crushed and smashed to little bits by the teeth. Then I cover the little food bits with saliva and shape them into slimy blobs of guck that I push down the throat and-" "That's sick," said Hand. "Disgusting." said Foot. MORAL: there are somethings we dont talk about at the dinner table.
