Wearing one shoe doesn’t stop others from minding where they step. A bare foot’s also real good at finding all the broken bits of glass and shrapnel in the halls...
A pair of jeans, a shirt, and one shoe. That’s all I’ve got. Lost my socks in a card game. They let me keep the shirt on my back on account of how bad it smelled. Must be pretty bad if they picked the socks over the shirt. You’d think them taking one shoe was a joke, but nah, I won the next game fair and square.
Much good it did me, being left with one shoe. That’s why my right foot looks like it does—all cracked and split and bruised up. Wearing one shoe doesn’t stop others from minding where they step. A bare foot’s also real good at finding all the broken bits of glass and shrapnel in the halls.
As bad as my foot’s beginning to look, there’s only one thing that’s keeping me from another card game, keeping me from the chance of winning back my shoe—and that’s the idea of losing my other shoe. The guy who won my socks wears them over his own socks to hide all the holes. The guy who won my shoe, well, he doesn’t even need it—he just keeps it under his bed. A funny joke. And everyone’s laughing but me.
But just you wait. I’m gonna play another card game and I’m gonna win it back—hell, I’ll even take the other guy’s shoes—but not today. Today just let a man sit here and enjoy his left shoe.
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