The Plight of Pen’s Perfectly Pristine Pair of Shoes 

Today is a bad, bad day. That’s right. One bad isn’t enough. The month is March and God or whatever has gone and dumped an unholy amount of water onto the face of the Earth. I hate the rain. Know why? Because rain leads to mud and mud leads to stains and at least 85% of my ego is based on my pristine condition. Plus if the stains weren’t enough, the smell is. No one wants to smell like Middle School Feet. Especially not wet Middle School Feet.  

The sky was a glorious blue until the clouds ruined everything. They gathered in their annoying little groups and promptly dumped themselves on the grassy hill Pen forces us to cross every morning (and evening and really whenever they want). I am convinced it is to spite me. So now, instead of grass, there is mud. Squishy mud that squelches every time I am stomped into what is frankly, an ugly excuse for grass. 

School is over now and we just have to cross. Because that is what Pen has decided. And I am a pair of shoes with no personal freedom (much to my infinite disappointment). 

See it would be fine, I guess, if Pen actually took the time to clean me. But they don’t! It’s not like it’s that hard! Toothbrush, elbow grease, baking soda. Three things! That’s all I ask! Do I get to return to my glorious former self though? No. Of course not. 

The grass is an ugly off brand green with hidden mud puddles everywhere. Like RIGHT THERE! SEE! This is why we don’t walk in the grass after it has rained! And the other shoes call me the Problem. 

If this is what life is like, I want a refund. I am drenched, my soles (get it?) are caked in mud and Pen just threw me into the dreaded washing machine. Do you know what happens to shoes that go in there? They die. That’s what happens. No one, in the history of the world, has ever carelessly thrown their shoes into that death trap and expected them to come out in one piece. No One.

…

I am dizzy, unhappy and overall disappointed in Life Outside The Store. Everyone was sooo excited when I left. Claiming there was “adventure out there”. They lied. The “adventure” is ruining my reputation and I have had it. And if that weren’t bad enough, I’m still stained. Surprise surprise! The death trap didn’t work. It just made my laces a twisted knotted mess. 

…

Oh, look who finally decided to show up! I hope you can hear me! How could you do this to me? Just because you don’t like me doesn’t give you permission to—Ughhhhh why did I get such boring shoes. They’re literally so plain. Do you see what I’m dealing with here? How would you feel if someone bought you, and immediately regretted it? You’d feel terrible. Know how I know? Because Someone did buy me and then regretted it. Their name is Pen. Say hi Pen. 

But that’s not even the worst part! Now they want to change me! Not just in the conventional way either! No no! They want to change my laces (bright yellow), splatter paint all over me (in multiple colors) and take a sharpie to my sole. I can’t even properly enjoy that pun because I’m so upset. 

Pen got me on account of wishing to help populate the Sheeple of Middle School and now, they’re regretting it. I have little sympathy. My sympathy left when they decided the solution to all their problems was changing the foundations of my personality. 

All I do now is worry when they’ll make their move. Will it be today? Tomorrow? Never? (it better be never). I don’t want to be “customized”. I want to be myself. And myself is the cleanest pair of shoes you’ve ever seen.