My shoes left me
Plastic eyeballs rolling like marbles and crazy kids all resembling the offspring of the cult fave bat child walk out of the yellowed pages of past issues of The Weekly World News. I casually stroll by careful not to step on a wayward bloodshot eye rolling towards my foot. I'm in O'hare waiting to connect to Toronto. All of these people scare me but I'm a pretty good poker player and keep my emotions hidden in a buttoned pocket over my heart.
When I went through security I took my shoes off and they proceeded to walk away like they didn't even know me. "Hey! Where are you guys going?" I shouted over the head of the woman inspecting my bag. "We quit! We're tired dude. You're always moving. You're like a shark except you wear shoes and can't breathe underwater. We need to rest. We don't like you anymore."
The woman who was the head of airport security then pulled me aside and said, "Excuse me sir but who are you talking to?" "My shoes" I replied. "They're leaving me. They're going on strike like sanitation workers in Paris. They hate me. We're at an impasse and there's no mediator to help negotiate. Will you please talk some sense into them?" Next thing I know I'm pulled into an office for further questioning. A white room with one lightbulb. In the meantime my shoes are gone. They finally let me go after a full body cavity search which I might add was quite enjoyable.
Now I'm walking through the terminal in my socks and the marble floors are freezing cold on my toes. I need to buy some shoes because I only brought one pair. I must wear a disguise when I go into the store because I figure my shoes have updated their Facebook profile and status to warn others of my horrid slave like sweatshop conditions I put them through.
I'm now sitting the plane and heaps of eyeballs are falling out of the overhead compartments. Thousands of them with eyelids still attached winking at me from shattered martini glasses. Nobody knows the trouble I've seen. This world is a cold dark cruel place. Hobbes was fucking right.
The flight attendant is now looking suspiciously at me. She has terrible style and her makeup is as thick as carrot cake frosting. She's telling me to turn off all portable electronic devices except for vibrators. I say, "Excuse me miss, why can't I use my iPad if others can use vibrators?" "What are you talking about?" She replied with a shocked looking expression cracking her mud caked face.
By now I realize that I'm hearing voices in my head again. So I excuse myself and go to the aft cabin loo. In this lighting my eyes have bags under them that would rival Bill Clinton's. I may even take first place in an eye-bag contest. Mine are so big they have their own bus route.
I'm happy I'm going to get to fall asleep in the near future. Just not today or tomorrow. Or the next day. Shiza Minnelli, I'm freaking wigging. This has been update from Shoeless Steve Poltz.