Without his big toes it WAS incredibly difficult to walk.
Your move, writer.
That opening sentence is doing a lot of comic work already, so one direction is to just lean into deadpan absurdism, treating this bizarre injury with the flat seriousness of someone explaining a parking ticket, building out a whole ridiculous backstory of how the toes went missing in the first place. Another route plays it as quiet resilience, a character relearning something as basic as walking, the small humiliations and small victories of it, turning the physical struggle into a meditation on patience and stubbornness. There's also a fable-like angle available here, where the toes are gone for a strange folkloric reason, a bargain, a curse, a debt paid to something old, and the difficulty walking becomes symbolic weight rather than medical fact. Start wherever the sentence pulls you.
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