The Life of A Shoe As Told By A Shoe Part 2

The next week was school.  I suppose as it was the first day of school, my brother and I were given a good facelift.  I felt proud for I was shining like never before.  Andrew dressed for school, pulled us on his feet and went in the car to wait on his mother.  I was on the right foot and my brother on the left.  Usually, Andrew’s mother had to wait on him but quite surprisingly, that first morning, the situation was reversed.  He became rather impatient and kept on shouting for his mother to come.  My own feeling on the matter is that he was anxious to show off his new clothes, particularly his ‘new shoes’.  At the time, I felt good for that.

Finally we arrived at school.  Andrew alighted from the car and his mother drove off.  Andrew walked over to a group of children whom I believe were his close friends, probably his classmates.  The gathering was made up of both boys and girls.  As you would guess, the topic of the discussion was about shoes.  They were all showing off their new shoes.  Andrew argued that we were not only the best looking of the shoes around but that we were also the most expensive.  I felt proud.  Things were really beginning to look up, or so I thought. 

The school bell rang and the children hurried to their lines.  I could not believe that these were the same children who only minutes ago were boasting about their shoes.  Right there in the line a dirt fight commenced.  Andrew started it.  He kicked dirt in the shoes of the person in front of him and his classmate reacted in the same manner.  Very soon half of the children in the class joined in what for them had now become a game.  You could imagine how we all looked.  My tips were all scuffed and bruised from the dirt and the small pebbles.  Andrew more than anyone else dug deep with my tips to ensure that he brought up the greatest amount of dirt.  My polish job was spoilt and I felt horrible.  What started as a good morning became a fiasco for me.

The next ordeal of my first day at school came during the luncheon period.  After my master had hurriedly eaten his lunch, he went on the playing field and joined a game of football.  I wish I could ask him what he thought he was doing but as you know shoes must keep their thoughts to themselves.  I dared not open my mouth.  In that game each time I connected with the ball, I winced in pain but my master could not see.  He did not care.  After all, I was only a pair of school shoes.  While chatting with my twin brother in one of our quiet moments, he had told me that he understood that there were special shoes which were used for games. 

 Sometime after I discovered that our master was the proud possessor of no less than three pairs of these shoes but chose instead to abuse us.  That day the bell saved us from more maltreatment.  During my school days I learnt that they were some bells that you welcome and they were others that made you tremble.  I liked the bells which ended any kind of recess.

When we arrived home in the afternoon, the conversation went something like this. 

“Andrew,” called his mother in an inquiring tone.  “How was your first day back at school?”

“Great, Mum, absolutely great.  I had loads and loads of fun.  I won the shoes showdown hands down.  Nobody even came near me.  My shoes were tops,” he emphasised with a rather boastful attitude.

“You know very well that is not what I mean.”

“So what do you mean, Mother?” he inquired.

“Never mind.  All day at work I felt badly about spending so much money on a pair of shoes.  Some how I felt that I was sending you the wrong signals.  You know, Andrew, it is not how expensive are the things you own, or even if they look better than somebody else’s, but that you appreciate what you have with contentment,” she counselled.

“Awh Mummy, there you go preaching to me again.  I hate it when you preach.  You know very well that I appreciate the things you give me,” he replied in a self-righteous tone.

Meanwhile his mother had taken up the shoes to examine them.  “Andrew!” she shouted.  “Come here this very minute!” 

“What now, Mummy!” he shouted back. 

“You did not bring home your school shoes,” she called back, with an unconvincing attempt at humour.  “ Where are your school shoes?   As a matter of fact it seems that you have exchanged one of the shoes for an old one.”

“I don’t see what you are making such a great alarm over, Mother.  They are just a pair of shoes.  The shoes are not even bothered.”

That really made me angry.  I felt like I could walk right up to him and give him a kick where it would really hurt.  What also hurt me was when Mrs. Howell referred to the shoe that was exchanged.  I knew that she was referring to me.  I had become an old shoe in just a matter of days.  My twin brother looked in far better condition than I did.  What blemishes he had could easily be corrected with a polish and shine.  My condition was far too severe for that.  I needed reconstructive surgery.  That’s the kind of treatment a right shoe experiences.  And if you were a right shoe belonging to my master, it would be worse.  My master was the ‘pits’.

My next experience was a watery experience to say the least.  It was a very rainy morning.  I was hoping that there would have been no school.  I trembled at the thought of being dragged through the mud and the water.   I squirmed in my leather as I thought about it.  As usual, Mrs. Howell dropped Andrew off at school.  As soon as she drove away, Andrew ran on to the playing field joining some boys who were already engaged in a game of muddy football.  So much rain had fallen that the playing field was under water reaching up to one’s ankles.  Andrew and his friends derived much pleasure from playing in these conditions.  By the time the bell was rung, every shoe was not only muddy but full of water.  That was a most uncomfortable morning for me.  The water and mud made my leather soft and smelly.  I longed to get out into the sun so that my leather could dry out.

During lunchtime my next ordeal was with a milk can which Andrew saw on the playing field.  The pupils no longer had the football because it had been confiscated.  Andrew was not to be denied so a milk can became his football.  This was especially harmful to me because the can scraped my colour and cut my leather every time Andrew kicked it.  He used my twin brother to bring the can in line and then he banged it with me.  As a result I came in for the greater abuse again.  At the end of that experience my sole had begun to come apart from my body.  You must remember, that at this, time it was only four days since I had left the store.  If I only you could see me.  I looked like I had gone through a war.  My laces were caked with mud and I had been bruised and battered beyond recognition.  My brother and I were the pair of shoes that Andrew had promised to take special care of.  There was I, hapless and miserable looking and unable to do anything about it.  I thought then that they really should be a law against shoes abuse.  I mean, carrying a person’s weight all day long should be enough punishment.  To think that we also had to put up with this kind of treatment was really taking advantage of a good thing. 

I could tell of many more experiences that I suffered at the hands or maybe I should say at the foot of my master.   I could tell of the many skating competitions he entered with his friends and the extreme pain I endured as he skated along on the hot road.  I remembered him saying to his friends, “Let’s see who can skate the longest.”  He was never to be outdone so he skated and skated until his friends admitted that he was the longest and best skater.  By this time my sole had become very thin and there was not much walking life left in me.  Then there was the time when I was left in the garage and was run over by the car a number of times before my rescuer, Mrs. Howell, came to my assistance.  I should mention too, that I experienced another encounter with Frisky.  This time he was far more severe than on the first occasion.  This time he yanked out my lace and tore off part of my sole.  I knew then that my master would abandon me because I was in no condition to be taken to school and the other places to which he went from time to time. 

If only I had known that my life would have been so miserable, I would rather not have left Brazil at all.  I have heard many of my friends speak of the good times they have enjoyed in Barbados.  Well, whenever they try to convince me of their good fortune, I smile and say I am better off now than when I first came.  These days I am out in the garage just looking through the gate watching my fellow shoes come and go.  You might say that I am enjoying my early retirement.  Nobody bothers about me these days.  In my corner of the garage I just sit there and remember the bad old days when my master treated me as he liked.  

Currently I am only four months old but I am already experiencing old age.  My twin brother is in much better shape than I am but whoever heard of a two-foot man wearing one shoe.  So guess what!  My twin brother, though in better shape than I am, is in the same position as I.  We are both right in the garage, thankfully away from the car wheels but close enough to be aware of all who are coming and going.  Even Frisky doesn’t bother me anymore.  I once heard a wise old shoe say, “Dogs don’t bother with old shoes.  They prefer the shiny new ones.”

At the time I replied, “You don’t know how right you are you wise old shoe.”  Well I do not care what any new shoe says. There are some things I know, for I have learnt my lessons well.  The best time of a shoe’s existence is when he doesn’t have to carry around those indifferent ungrateful humans anymore.  After all, I was in school every school day for almost four months.  I may have been under the desk but I listened well and I saw a lot too.  And now that I have become an old wise shoe, though prematurely so, all I have to say to you young upstarts is, “You haven’t seen anything yet.  Just wait until you but up on an ‘Andrew’ out there.  Then you will know the kind of misery some shoes have to go through.” 

Well, I may not be my shiny new self, but finally, I am comfortable and I guess, in a strange way I am happy too.

Stewart Russell © 2012

The Life of A Shoe As Told By A Shoe Part 1

I remember the occasion as if it were yesterday.  I had only been placed on the shelf the day before.  I had arrived at the store after a long trip from Brazil.  I was one of a twin and I suppose we both experienced the same misfortune but I do not presume that I can speak for my brother.  It was quite relaxing and I might add, a far cry from the dungeon-like cellar in which I journeyed from the country of my birth.  There I was sitting on the top-most shelf of the largest department store in Bridgetown, Barbados.

I was really enjoying the view and meeting the many people who indicated much interest in me.  During that one day that I had been on the shelf I went from hand to foot and back to the shelf no fewer than a hundred times.  Usually, I did not mind the fuss that they were making over me but there were times people tried to force me on a foot that was certainly much too big.  Then there were cases where I was much too big for the little feet.  Altogether, the experience was far better than being cramped in a dusty storage room with nothing to see but darkness and nothing to listen to, but the creaking of my friends, as the huge ship swayed from side to side on the briny ocean.

I had just been placed on the shelf again when in walked a distinguished looking lady with a little brat at her side.  From the time I saw him I became apprehensive.  He was pouting as he walked among the shelves looking at many of my friends.  I learnt later that he was angry because his mother would not let him have his way.  I learnt too, that she had spent much money buying shoes for him that he had destroyed in a hurry.  The way he handled the shoes that he took from the shelves made me squirm.  I was hoping that he would not come in my direction but I knew then that my wish would not come true.

As he drew closer to me I began to tremble.  Eventually he came and stood right in front of me.  His eyes scrutinized the shoes from left to right then up and down coming to rest squarely on my twin brother and me.  Then I heard his shout of glee.  “Mummy!  Mummy!  I see the pair of shoes I really want.  You must let me have them.  Please, Mummy.  I promise to take good care of them this time.”

His mother took me up and she turned me over.  “These look strong and durable but nothing is lasting, especially with the way you treat shoes.  And besides, they are too expensive.  I couldn’t buy these at that price.”

The pout with which he entered the store returned.  My spirits began to lift as I heard his mother for I certainly did not like him for a master.  I would only endure a horrible life.  Just looking at him, I could tell.  “But Mummy,” he countered, “School is next week and we have walked all through town and we have not found anything worth buying.  These are good shoes.  Look, look, see how thick the soles are!  And the leather is good and strong.  Even I couldn’t mash these up.”

“You know, I have heard those lines before and lived through this scene many times.  That’s what you say each time we go looking for shoes.   This is the fourth time for the year that I am purchasing shoes for you.  That means that you destroyed two pairs of strong shoes last term.  I can’t continue to spend money like this on you.  You need to show greater appreciation for the things you have.  Money don’t grow on trees, you know.”

I listened to every word for I knew that my future hung upon whose argument was the more convincing.  Needless to say, that little brat convinced his mother that she should buy my brother and me despite the price she had to pay.  Up to this day I still believe that $275.00 was way too much money to pay for a pair of shoes.  As soon as Andrew tried on my brother and me, there was a smug look of satisfaction on his face.  This was followed by a face of resolute determination as he refused to remove us from his feet.  “Surely you are not going to wear them out of the store?” his mother inquired, the tone of her voice indicating it was a question rather than an instruction.

Andrew did not answer.  He roughly shoved the other pair of shoes into the box and headed off to the cashier with his mother strutting along behind him.  Anyone could easily see that he was accustomed to having his own way.  I trembled at the thought of him being my master but there was nothing I could do.  My worst fears were being realized at that very moment.  I was going to have a monster for my master.

Mrs. Howell paid the cashier and we left the store.  The drive home was to be the best moment I would spend in Andrew’s employ.  We boarded what appeared to be a new Toyota Corolla.  I was quite comfortable as I nestled in the plush carpeting of the interior.  It appeared that the carpet was recently shampooed for it had a very pleasant scent and was very clean.  Mrs. Howell seemed especially keen about her car.  Several times I heard her tell Andrew, “ You can’t put your foot up there.  Are you crazy?  Sit properly in the car!  What do you think you are doing, boy?”  Sometimes it went on for such along time that I thought it would never end.  My master was certainly the limit.  I could see that I was in for a horrid time.  Well, there was nothing I could do about it.  From the time I was made I had had no say in the matters concerning me so I just had to take the rough with the smooth, if there was going to be any smooth.   My philosophy of living soon became, ‘what will be will be’. 

At long last we reached home.  Andrew jumped out of the car and hurried into the house.  He kicked me off at the door in such a rough manner that I fell back out on the step.  A while after, I heard Mrs. Howell say, “I do not believe this.  This could not be one of Andrew’s new pair of shoes.  This child told me how well he was going to treat these shoes and now here is one of them at the door already.  Andrew!  Andrew!” she called out to him in a voice full of impatience, “Come and put these shoes where they are supposed to be.”

“Coming, Mummy,” he shouted back.  “I just want to finish this game on the computer.”

“I want them moved right now,” Mrs. Howell ordered, her voice rising even higher.

“All right, Mummy, have it your way,” the rude brat retorted. 

“Aieee!”  I landed right on top of a pile of several of my fellow shoes.  They were all complaining of the treatment that Andrew had meted out to them.  “He is the worst,” I head one shoe say with such anger that I became even more afraid.  We were all in a corner of the room competing for space with shirts and pants, socks, belts, handkerchiefs and toys of all descriptions.

I had resigned myself to a life of pure misery when I heard a growling sound.  In the bedroom walked one of the nicest looking dogs I had ever seen.  He was very fluffy and, I might add, more than a little frisky too. And guess what!  Yes, you guessed correctly.  He headed straight for the pile of shoes.  Yes, you guessed right again.  He singled out handsome me for his undivided attention.  The next ten minutes were some of the worst treatment that I have ever undergone.  That frisky little dog just bit and tore at me and kicked me as he desired.   There was no one to whom I could turn for help.  My master could not care less.  He was on his computer just having a merry time with his stupid game.  I could not believe that he was allowing this to happen to the shoes that he wanted so badly only a few hours ago.  At one stage Frisky just held me by my tong and swung me from side to side.  I thought he would never stop.  “Frisky!”  That was the right name for this second monster in my life.  Thank God, it did not last forever.  Suddenly my rescuer arrived and sent him scurrying through the door. 

Mrs. Howell turned to her son and asked, “Why don’t you keep that dog out of this room?”

“Awh, Mummy, he isn’t doing anything wrong,” he replied oblivious to all that the dog had being doing.  “You just keep picking on him all the time.  And besides you’ve interrupted me and caused me to miss one the targets.  Now I have to start the game all over again.”

“Oh, well this is as good a time as any for me to draw your attention to the state of this room, or should I say pig sty?  Don’t you see how empty the drawers and the cupboards are and how full the floor is?  I want the adjustment made this minute.   Do you hear me?”

With that, she stomped out of the door and left us.  Needless to say, Andrew continued with his computer game.  One of the problems was that Mrs. Howell never stayed around long enough to enforce her instructions to Andrew.   As a result he would continue with whatever he was doing for as long as it pleased him.  More often than not, Andrew did as he liked, got whatever he wanted and did not seem to have a care in the world.  This was Andrew’s life.