Bring it, Scuff Boy!

If you missed the first two installments of this whacky ride, you messed up! But in case you’re interested, you can go to the links below and catch up:

1. When Does Weird Cross The Line?

2. Walk a Mile With My Shoe

Now, if all that isn’t enough, I’ve got more, so come on! Part three is here!

When I arrived at my house, I went directly to my office, opened the closet door and put the shoe on the floor. As I pushed the door to close it, the shoe wedged itself between the jamb and door. I could actually feel a slight pressure; the door trying to open—or was the shoe pushing it? This was making me crazy. I opened the door, and the shoe walked out. I could tell it was angry… or something.

I watched as it stomped past me, and when it reached the hallway, it rose up on its toe and quite haughtily sashayed down the hall, its heel swaying side-to-side. It was a man’s loafer, but it seemed to have the personality of a high heel. I laughed out loud.

The shoe stopped and turned slowly until its laces were looking right at me; I noticed the plastic tip was gone from one end and it was frayed. I had the distinct impression the shoe was about to start talking—judging by the look on its lace—but it didn’t. I got the feeling it was sizing me up; wondering if it could kick my butt if I got too far out of line. I thought, Bring it, scuff boy! The shoe—still on its toe—feinted at me, and I jumped backward into my office.

 I peeked cautiously around the corner to see the shoe toe-heeling it down the hall and into the living room. I followed, and when I got to the living room, it was in my Lazy Boy. There was a can of Shinola and an old T-shirt on the lamp table beside my chair.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. It was the first time I’d spoken to the shoe, and it felt as weird as I expected it would. The shoe rolled over and exposed its sole. There was a worn spot right behind where the big toe of whoever used to wear the shoe would have been. It wasn’t a hole yet, but it would soon be one. Looking at the almost-a-hole, I thought the shoe wasn’t worth the price of a new sole. In fact, if it hadn’t provided it, I wouldn’t even spring for a can of Shinola. And, what good was one shoe? As those thoughts ambled through my mind, the shoe seemed to go rigid. I took a couple of steps backward.

The shoe rolled over onto its sole, hopped down form the chair, and proceeded to the back door. As it went—doing that toe-heel swagger again—the can of Shinola rolled off the table and came to a rest at my feet. The T-shirt fluttered, rose up into the air then flew over and draped across my shoulder. I sighed, thinking this was going to go where it was going, so I might as well go with it. I went out to the back deck, and found the shoe sitting in the sun, on one of the tables.

It looked almost presentable after I gave it a good polishing; still a bit rough in places, but I figured it was better than it was before. It sat on the table, parts of it gleaming in the sun. I’d laced it up, and I noticed the frayed end now had a shiny new plastic tip on it.

Made sense to me.

10 Comments »

  1. Sherry Mashburn said

    I love the visual of the shoe sashaying down the hallway. Also, the symbolism of the frayed end having a shiny new plastic tip after the shoe was cleaned up is thought provoking.

    Good job, Charlie!

  2. Well, I’m beginning to wonder just what it was you encountered up there in that North wood? Whatever it was sure planted an ace in your funny bone!

    • Oh, I gaathered that particular bit of moss from all over this great land, Donna. I am the original rolling stone, and I gathered material every place I landed!
      Thanks for the visit, read, and comment!

  3. Mom said

    Good Grief Charlie Brown, must be the heat! It is ten degrees hotter here and I’m sure it’s the heat because I believe in the “Shoe”

    • The heat can make a person believe in a shoe, I reckon! Funny you should bring that shoe up at this particular moment, because I just finished writing the next little bit in the story, and I was sitting here wondering if I should continue. The portion I just finished didn’t advance the story much, and I figure my blog readers will get bored with it. It looks like it might take several more short chapters to finish the thing. Don’t know for sure. I think what I might do is put it on in the afternoons as kind of a take-it-or-leave-it post. Or, maybe just email it to those who want to follow it through. Still contemplating this dilemma.

  4. Oh come on!!! This is so unfair you can’t stop again there! Hahahah… well this shoe’s personality reminds me a little of my mother and of my sister (basically it’s a trait of the women in this family) where we tend to be kind of haughty and mischievous, a little bit firey, but really when offered the chance of being polished and looked after we’re not so defensive after all… hahaha. I’ll be back soon for the NEXT bit (please tell me we get a next bit?) :] xx

    • So… your’e telling me you may be related to this shoe? And it’s a woman shoe. I’ve wondered about it. It’s a man’s loafer, but it has that heel-toe thing going on, and if you could see it sashay, I think you’d understand what I’m sayin. AND! I am juss sayin!
      Here’s the deal on more bits. My wife, Sherry, isn’t about to let me quit on the story. It will come to some sort of conclusion at some point. It seems to have some tread left though, so we’ll just have to see how it wears.
      I am plum tickled–as opposed to plumb tickled–that you are so interested in the story. Makes me smile!

      • Hahaha well maybe, if it turned out to be related to me that’d be really fascinating… so far I think it seems to have displayed female tendencies… but it’s not set in stone. :] xx

      • We will see what developes. In the meantime, if you haven’t already, you should keep yourself amused by reading my latest entry, Be No Evil. I think you will enjoy it. Be sure to read the comments, as well.

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