This is a true story. It’s about a rusty nail.
I grew up on a potato farm on the west coast of South-Africa. As a kid, I would wander around, playing outside or discovering new things in the old “scrap yard” that was just a stone throw away from the house. One day as I was walking in the scrap yard, I stepped in a rusty nail. It went in quite deep, and because of all the stories I’ve heard about how dangerous rusty iron can be, I ran home to find help. Unfortunately the only person that was home that day was my grandmother, who was the most cautious person I knew. She ran around the house, searching for remedies for diseases I didn’t yet have, and probable never will. There were several disinfectants, hot water and a lot of salt involved, but she still was not content. After a while she came back holding a container. She said: “I don’t know what this is, but it says ‘helps against rust’ on the container”. I busted out laughing as I realised that she was holding a bottle of my mothers sewing machine oil.