Friday, May 2, 2008

Its Like Shoes

Dude, 'member when we got new shoes when we were kids and we thought they made us run faster?

And you'd put your shoes on for the first time and you'd feel this sudden rush of power and excitement.

And you'd take off like a comet and tear all around the yard.

And you'd be all like, "hey mom! look at me! look at how fast I can run now!"

And you'd think of ways you could use your newfound super speed to help people.

And you'd be all lit up and happy to be there like Gene Wilder.

And then somehow that got ruined.

Somebody told you something that made you decide that's not how it worked anymore.

Mebbe it was your momma, trying to teach you to be more serious.

Mebbe it was some miserable-ass know-it-all wise guy that just hated seeing you so happy.

Mebbe it was the bad kids smoking cigarettes behind the schoolhouse.

Misery loves company y'know.

And so the magic in your shoes died.

And now, when you put on your shoes, there's no power in them.

They're a curse of science and mathematics upon you.

Something dark and heavy to trap your feet in.

Just another lifeless burden to carry along with you, more equipment to drag through the dirt of the wastelands, armor to protect your feet from hypodermic needles and barbed wire and bits of broken glass.

All that negativty stuck to you and weighed you down.

But all you need to do is find some soft green grass.

And you can take your shoes off.

And run faster.

For real.

Suddenly its like you've come out of a dark tunnel.

And shed your curse.

And let the weight of your armor fall away from you.

'Cause you don't need your armor here.

And you realized how the magic really works.

Without shoes.

'Course your feet are all gross and gnarly by then.

And their magic is weak.

From all the years they were kept in captivity.

'Cause of something somebody said to sell you those shoes that would make you run faster, back when you were a kid.

And 'cause of something I said while I was smoking with the bad kids behind the schoolhouse, back when I was a kid.

And 'cause of all the hypodermic needles and barbed wire and bits of broken glass in the wasteland.

And the general lack of soft green grass.

But whatever.

Better late than never, right?

And you never would've appreciated it.

Like you do now.

After walking all those miles.

In your own shoes.

No comments: