April 15, 2005
Ransom Note
Amusement Park

Two of the gorgeous gals I was in the play with last year recently left their shoes at my house. Now, this wouldn't have been such a problem if my feet were oh... say... TEN SIZES SMALLER and SIX INCHES NARROWER!

As it is, these dainty lil' leather mules and shiny slingbacks with their stacked heels serve as a mocking reminder of just how abnormal I am! (See why I prefer how-to books over shoes? Books don't give my already-gnarly toes blisters. Books don't make me fall flat on my face. Well... unless I pile them up on the floor... but that's another story. But most importantly, books never make my big feet feel even bigger. Books don't mock me with their gorgeous covers only to humiliate me when I page through them. No, books never make me feel and look as if I have hippo feet!)

Today, I sent them this ransom note:

Girls,

I have your shoes. The ransom is a bottle of wine and yet another long evening in my company within the next week. Only then will they be returned to you, unscuffed.

Don't bother getting the American fashion police involved. Because once they find out that I'm from South Africa, it won't be difficult to convince them that the fact that I'm wearing any clothes at all (even if is ill-fitting factory rejects from the clearance racks at T.J. Maxx, Marshall's and Ross*) and not just prance around in my freckles and a few strategically placed animal skins, is a great personal accomplishment and a step towards civilization.

I know how precious these shoes are to you, but if you don't respond... well, let's just say that 'time wounds all heels'!

Regards,
Big Foot.


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Redsaid | 05:50 PM