Jelly Shoes

Charley, Jan and I stood in a semi-circle around Johnny. It was an intervention as his falling for every fad that came his way had now officially passed a very dangerous line.

“You really have to get your head out of your ass,” Charley told him. Johnny mumbled something in reply but I couldn’t hear it, though Jan seemingly had no such trouble.

“No, honestly Johnny, you have to get your head out of your rectum, you’re going to do permanent damage to your bowel by keeping it in there,” she added.

“Johnny,” I added, “you know me, you know I don’t fly off the handle, that I’m generally calm and I leave you to your … interests but this one is, well, it’s just dangerous. Think of what Dad would say, if he hadn’t recently been sent to prison.” Johnny just lay there for a second, seemed to sigh and then, with a large ‘squelch’, he slowly un-rolled himself and sat up in the chair.

“Ouch,” he said matter of factly.

“I bet,” Jan responded, “come on we need to get you to the hospital as you’ll probably need a few stitches.”

“I don’t think I can walk to the fish,” he admitted.

“That’s okay,” Jan said before picking him up over her shoulder and carrying him out of the room.

“You think he’ll be okay?” Charley asked me.

“I don’t know, he’s pretty stubborn, but maybe this time he’ll realize he went too far.”

“I hope so,do you have any plans for the day?”

“No, not really.”

“Want to go do something?” Charley asked.

“Sure,” I responded, “let me get my shoes.” I walked over to the closet and opened the door, where I was confronted by a pair of old, tiger skin platform shoes I had once bought for a party at the seminary.

“That’s weird,” I started, “why are these here?” I picked them up, walked over to the basement door, opened it and threw the shoes down the darkened stairs, “I’ll sort that out later.” I went back to the closet and looked inside, “hey, Charley, have you seen my shoes?”

“You just threw them down the stairs.”

“No, I mean my other shoes.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them, they’re all missing.”

“That’s weird,” Charley added as he walked forward and peered into the closet, “I saw them in here yesterday.”

“Maybe Mom moved them,” I answered, as I closed the door, and walked towards the far hall before opening the closet there. “Oh my goodness!” I exclaimed as I was greeted by the sight of my right runner hanging from its own shoe lace from the coat rack, dead as dead could be.

“What is it?” Charley asked as he came hopping up behind me.

“Look,” I pointed, wiping tears from my eyes. He peered into the closet and then pulled his head back out.

“Has it been depressed?” He asked me.

“No, not at all.”

“I don’t see the second shoe either, I don’t like the way this looks, it could have been made to look like a suicide…”

“But who would do such a thing?” I asked before we were interrupted by a banging noise coming from the front closet. Charley, ever the police officer, rushed to that door and flung it open, with me close behind.

We immediately wished we hadn’t looked. “Your other shoe! It’s been neck tied!” Charley exclaimed, “it’s been slit open and its tongue pulled through.”

“Oh no!” I yelled, feeling the nausea rising in my throat.

“Clearly this was no boat accident,” Charley stated matter of factly.

“Um, well, obviously not,” I responded, “nobody said it was.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought maybe the mayor…”

“No, no the mayor wouldn’t even know about this.”

“Oh,” we stood looking at each other uncomfortably before we heard another knock, actually

more of a thud than a knock, this time from the front door. Charley tried to put his finger to his lips, missed and poked himself in the eye instead, which caused him to double over in pain. I, meanwhile, walked over to the door and flung it open where I was greeted by the tiger shoes.

The shoes were holding a knife.

“Charley, I think we found our culprit,” I said as he sidled up to me, his eye already swelling shut.

“Seems so,” he answered, quickly grabbing the shoes, “it’s the garborator for you.” He walked into the kitchen and shoved the shoes down the sink where he proceeded to tear them apart in the industrial strength garbage shredder he had installed, mainly to help him dispose of body parts.

“Thanks,” I said to him, “I think I need to go shoe shopping now.”

“Sure let’s go.” So we did and I bought three new pairs of shoes, a pair of runners, a pair of

I was very happy with those purchases and completely forgot about what happened to my old shoes that is, until the next morning, when I found that all my new shoes had been neck-tied.

“Charley!” I yelled.

“Sorrycouldn’thelpmyselfbro,” he screamed as he raced past me and out the door.