Who took my shoe?
A month ago, I returned to my room, and, reaching for one of my favorite pairs of shoes, found that I was in possession of only one. One. I have searched every inch of my room and my house, but nary a shoe has been found.
What the fuck?
Now, I’ll concede that I can be a bit careless. But this is a shoe we are talking about. It is attached to my foot. I generally leave my room with two shoes on, and return with two shoes on. Along the way, if my shoe were too slip off, I would probably notice the cold earth or hard, dirty floor underneath my naked foot.
And yes, I enjoy the occasionally foray into binge drinking like most of my peers. But let’s be honest, I would have to be pretty goddamn shit-rocked to lose my shoe and forget about it.
This is a paradox that I can scarcely fathom. One shoe missing, one shoe present. Perhaps if both were missing, I could accept the loss and move on with my life. But I only have one goddamn shoe! The joke is up and this isn’t funny any more. Who steals one shoe? What are you going to do with it? Do you have a shoe fetish? Are you some sick kleptomaniac who steals for the sheer thrill of the sport rather than necessity or function. The shoe, by itself, is completely useless. The two of them are complements, for God’s sake. All that I can say is, congratulations, because if you aim was to fuck with my head, then you have succeeded admirably.
This is absurd.
Really, I hope that you’re happy, because my foot is now frostbitten, blistered, and bleeding from stepping unprotected on the broken glass, shards of aluminum, and used syringes that litter Libe Slope. For the past week, I have suffered from chills and hallucinations of being well-liked and good-looking. It was awful! I went to Gannett the other day and was diagnosed with hepatitis, tetanus, small pox, and dysentery.
Well, okay, that was a lie. Except for the bit about dysentery of course. But I’m learning to cope. The suppositories are great, and if I remain within spitting distance of a toilet, I’m golden. Besides, Gannett could never diagnose something so complex. And if they did, they would give me some arcane antibiotic and I would probably die. Like the time I had a throat infection and they gave me Penicillin. Wow, a century of medical advancement, and you give me Penicillin. Thanks guys. After your careful and calculated care, I actually got worse, until I medicated MYSELF and got better. What does my tuition pay you for again?
But back to my shoe. What if that was my only pair of shoes? I’d be up the proverbial creek without the proverbial paddle, now wouldn’t I? Just because I happen to have other pairs of shoes does not excuse your callous and sadistic behavior. Why can’t you just bring it back already? Can’t you see the damage you’ve done?
This is my final plea. I am offering a reward, whose terms and stipulations will be discussed at a later date, for the return of my shoe and the perpetrator so that I can beat him with it.
Know that I will find you, shoe thief, and when I do, I’ll probably meekly suggest that you give it back. If we meet, please don’t hurt me or be too mean.
Archived article by Zach Jones