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The Shoe

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I am a shoe, but not your ordinary shoe. I am the limited edition 1994 charcoal black and fire red Michael Jordan’s. I was once the prize possession of the greatest man alive. He would polish me until I would sparkle to an extent beyond imagination. He would fall asleep at night caressing me in his arms and I felt loved. We would travel everywhere together: the grocery, the doctor’s office, and mostly the basketball courts. I was living the life.

Six years passed by like a dream. My confidence was at its peak and my aging only made me more beautiful and valuable. The date August, 11 2000 was the beginning of the end. The economy was busting and my dear owner was losing everything. He sold his house, his car, and even his dignity, but he still kept me on his feet. I was his prized possession and nothing could separate me from this loving man… or so I thought.

My owner went for weeks living on grains of bread and dirty contaminated water. His skin was tightening around his body and his bones were about to split open from malnutrition. He began to whisper to himself and rock back and forth crying. He had hit rock bottom, but he still would not sell me.

The next events that occurred are all blurry in my memory. The next thing I knew I woke up attached to my owner’s feet in the hospital. I overheard the doctor saying that my owner was dead. I examined my owner to find that he was pale white, his rib cage was protruding from his stomach and his right hand was gone… My owner had eaten his own hand to satisfy his hunger and had bled out in an alleyway. I was all he had left.

The doctors at the hospital noticed how much I meant to my poor deceased owner…. so they auctioned me off on eBay at a high price. I was bought instantly by a grotesque obese monster that goes by the name Rick. I then found myself in a spacious box fit for a shoe king and was shipped to Rick’s house immediately.

I do not know how to describe Rick other than lame. He trapped me in his tiny closet for I do not know how long. I waited patiently for the day when Rick would finally take me out of my box and utilize me to achieve victory on the basketball courts. I currently wish he would have left me in the closet…

The day arrived when Rick decided to lose weight through exercise. He dragged me out of my resting spot and slipped me on his feet. We headed down to the courts where Rick’s friends were waiting to start playing.

The game was not even five minutes in before Rick was sweating profusely like a pig. The smell was unbearable. The smell was a mix of poison, sweat, and a dead body. I would continue to hold my breath for two minutes at a time in order to escape this putrid smell, but the smell was not even the worst of it. Rick had a forest of foot hair that had bugs living it. Last, but not least, Rick had bunions the size of golf balls that oozed things that I didn’t even think was possible.

I could not handle it anymore. I was on Rick’s foot for no more than 15 minutes when I knew I had to escape. I pushed with great force to the left and caused Rick to trip over himself. His right ankle split open at the skin and his bone was popping out and blood was gushing everywhere. I cannot believe that I caused such a frightful event.

Rick was so angry that he took me home and put me in the fireplace. He lit the match and I roasted in agony for nearly 15 minutes. Even after obtaining multiple second and third degree burns, Rick had decided that my pain did not satisfy his ankle, so he slowly clipped off my shoe laces inch by inch. The pain was unbearable. I wanted to shout, but I realized that I do not have a mouth.

Rick had enough of me. He threw me into the river of his backyard so that I may never hurt another ankle again. I sit here now, reflecting on the good life of my old master who caressed me in his arms every night with love and wishing I could relive the past.





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