What about the Sour Shoe

It was probably the most vile pair of shoes I have ever smelled... and they were mine.  Bad vinegar and unwashed feet, the accumulation of four months and twelve hours a day of working in the trenches as everyone's personal tool.  On the fourth hour of the fourth night of the fourth month (strictly hearsay) enough was finally enough.  I tossed the shoes into the bushes in front of the house.  The garbage was far too good for the shoes, so there they lay for about a month, maybe longer.  One night it happened.  The smell of a long forgotten nightmare awoke me from a dead sleep.  I opened my eyes to see a friend who I hadn't seen in months.  It was a fantastic reunion except for the somewhat familiar stank.  What could it be?  Now I would like to say I noticed immediately but it took me at least twenty or thirty seconds to realize to my horror, the lunatic I was talking to, was WEARING the old shoes!  It was more like the shoes were wearing him. They seemed to have claimed him.  The more I bitched, the more he would refuse to take them off.  He stayed with me an entire year and so did the vile footwear.  He would put the deadbeat shoes under my pillow, in my face, enhance its odor with lavender baby powder that only made them stink more.  Not only did they stink, but now I was f%$cking sneezing all the time.  I tried to throw them out, really I did, numerous times.  No matter what I did with them they would find a way back to his feet.  Finally I had no choice, he and the shoe where exiled to Iggybumps.  During his exile the transformation took place.  Mike became the shoe and in turn we became the shoe.  Now the abomination is eternal.

 

Sour Shoe Productions Inc

Established 2003

E Pluribus Unum