I post a most unusual shout out

for what Doctor Seuss
(born Theodor Seuss Geisel)
might immediately understand
(as if we communicated
qua telepathically) my description
with a smattering of words
and hands gesticulating
recognized as a thingamabob,
and ably drawn
with a quick few brush strokes
an illustration linkedin
characterized as his penchant
to populate his funny books
videlicet trademark signature caricature
with a talking head that doth bob
and once I instantly approved
his human rendition
after minor enhancement
affixing curly cue toenails
in place of cloven hoofs
without even removing mine red socks
his x-ray vision could espy
mine human toes, from the innermost
to the outermost,
named the Big Toe (or hallux),
Second Toe (or index toe),
Middle Toe, Fourth Toe (or ring toe),
and Little Toe (or pinky toe/baby toe),
whereat impressive digital
enhancements displayed onychogryphosis
also known as "ram's horn nails"
methought someone
maybe even an alien
from the outer limits
of the twilight zone,
where dark shadows accentuate distortion
snuck into our one bedroom apartment
and carefully removed my socks and shoes
before a camera photographed
what I immediately recognized
and after the wife looked over my shoulder,
she would premature ejaculate
"make no mistake, those curved, thickened,
and yellow-brown in color anatomically
gross looking poor excuse for toenails
prompting her to conclude
that's my husband's toenails,
which with a click of the mouse
broadcast message far and wide
throughout the webbed wide world
across the Internet yours truly didst lob
accessing virtual portals,
which open after reciting
what sounds like gibberish
courtesy ancient looking shaman,
who hails from long lineage
of Norwegian Bachelor farmers calling Punjab
their home away from home
for generations on end
and regularly making their oblations
subsequently able, eager, ready
to profess and proffer necessary dexterity
for delicately donning and
be-robed courtesy lab coat or white coat
after nibbling on powder milk biscuits
to give shy people the courage,
(or present a convincing façade
within their Potemkin Village)
and willing to accept medical assignment
with the air of professional persuasion
and ready to consult
with turban headed oracle of Delphi
to tackle a toe tilly
"having the character of till"
(boulder-clay) tubular job,
which unfortunately beyond the ken
of revered medicinal women or men,
which finds yours truly
turning attention to online search
undertaken with discretion,
which hopefully doth newt
draw the attention
of paparazzi and/or flash mob,
but essentially ideally directed
at embalmer if unable
to locate adroit podiatrist
(preferably this side of Perkiomen Valley),
who while engrossed with task at foot
can alleviate ingrown toenails
analogous to pincer
clamping down inducing throb
to heel mine sole fiercely
dug into handy dandy
blues clues palm of doctor,
and essentially allowing, enabling,
and providing snug as a bug in a rug
kick off videlicet final foot note
of my toe till lee skinny
(as a tuba and punt size) leg uh see
casting about for a brave soul
strongly advising her/him
to don rubber gloves
as she/he gingerly cradles
first one foot and then the other
scrutinizing what appears at first blush
as an impossible mission
to clip gnarly growing
twisted (analogous to
cork screw shaped) toe nails of mine
while applying heavy duty
anesthetizing mean looking needle
to mine numb skull
re: feeling treated as a scullion maid
so I do not freak out
espying sight for sore eyes
and gets knocked out smelling duff feet
before whipping out
top of the line artificially intelligent
grade A+ nail clippers,
which this urgent plea can spur
close to the size with what
quickly turn out to be
industrial pruning shears.