Find The Shoe
A/N: A story in my anthology about my co-worker who I feel compelled to troll at every moment I get. I can't help myself.
I woke up as usual. It was around 11:15 a.m., and my usual routine was to turn my phone on and listen to heavy metal while having my first cup of coffee. I fucking hate mornings.
As I was turning my phone on, I saw missed call from Peter. He left an irate voicemail.
"Hey XARA! Where the fuck is my left shoe? I can't find it. I don't have time to find it. Fuck it. I'm wearing my dad's old shoes. This man has boats for feet, I swear! Ggrrrrrrrrr! Fuck you and fuck this morning. I'm late for work. Goddammit!" Peter said over voice message.
I cracked up. I called the disgruntled jerk back.
"Hello?" said an irate Peter.
I laughed over the phone. "Did you realize your shoe was in a copper hanging basket in on the porch? That shit was easy to find. Haha. And the other shoe was under the table. Easy to find," I said while being half awake.
"Nooooooooooooooooo, or I wouldn't have called you. Trust me. I have no interest in doing any sort of human interaction. Yes, I'm doing dry wall. I hate this world," Peter said
"You and me both. Haha. You were in a hurry, huh? Why?" I asked.
"Fuck if I know. I am slipping out of my shoes. This fucker has big feet. Why couldn't he have been a movie star? Nope. He had to be a drywall boss. Fuck me. Haha," Peter said.
"I don't know, but I just woke up," I said as I went downstairs to absent-mindedly make coffee.
"Ughhhhh... Fuck these shoes. Fuck this job. Fuck you. Why did you do this shit to me?" Peter asked. He sounded like he was gritting his teeth.
"Because fuck you. That's why," I said as I was grinding my coffee.
"Fuck you, too, bitch. The only reason we keep you around is because my mother needs you," he said.
"Psssh. Yeah, okay. She and I have been fighting, too," I said as I poured water in my coffee maker.
"Yeah. What the fuck is wrong with you two? She is fighting with me, too. I just assume she is under too much pressure with my dad and his GIANT feet. Size 15. Jesus. I wear a size 12! This is asinine. Bullshit. Why can't you get along with women? They don't hate you as much as they hate me," Peter said.
I rolled on the floor and laughed. "I'm PMSing and hate goddamn everybody. My anger is burning everything around me. The government shutdown is bullshit. Donald Trump is bullshit. I need more money. Your mother hates EVERYTHING I do. Women want to be like me, but I don't want to be like them. Pisses them off," I said.
"Haha. I'm pretty sure she resents the fact that I don't help with Dad enough. I'm sorry she's under a lot of pressure and that he wants to do this and do that and do whatever, but what the fuck am I supposed to do? I'm not a goddamn nurse. I have no bedside manner. The fuck am I supposed to do?" Peter asked.
"Fuck if I know. She's fucking impossible these days," I said.
"Well, she might be, but she's less impossible than you are. At least I halfway understand her. If I were her, I'd say fuck it and give him to another family member that isn't my son," he said.
"Oh fuck you. Because I like being jumped on when I walk through the door to actually do my job," I said. "I already felt horrible. I should have stayed home and said fuck it, but nooooooooooooooooo. I wanted us to have coffee I made fresh from whole beans and share out of a big chocolate box because the whole day was shit before it even started. I'm a nice person, PETER!!!!"
"Well you didn't have to throw the coffee table at my fucking head!" Peter said. "What the actual fuck was that about? And I still haven't found my GOOD brown shoes you hid some goddamn where else. One pair of brown shoes still has teeth marks from when Ted the Alligator gnawed at them. This is the kind of shit that makes you impossible."
"Well, maybe if people were more appreciative, I wouldn't have had to throw a coffee table!" I yelled.
"My dad was appreciative! Despite him having bigass feet and always finding random shit to do, he's a pretty fucking nice guy! Also, my mom is a stress ball and a half from everyone's razzle dazzle bullshit. So just try to forgive her. The fact that she's not institutionalized somewhere is a blessing," Peter said.
"Yeah, I know. I just feel like everyone takes their shit out on me. It just pisses me off sometimes. I try to do something nice, and it blows up. It's always like this no matter what I do and whom I do it for," I said quickly because my emotions were boiling over.
"Okay, okay. Slow down. You know I have to side with my parents. It's just code," Peter said.
"Ugh. I know. I wish you'd be more understanding of what I have to go through with YOUR FUCK LUCK. I feel like I have no allies. Except Joebear. But we're married, so that helps," I said.
"Well, I'm your ally when it is convenient for me. And occasionally I stick up for you on the rare occasion that you are correct," Peter said with a laugh.
"Fuck you. At least you're honest," I said.
"Well, you know. Fuck these shoes. I'm slipping off this bullshit ladder. These goddamn boats drive me crazy. Today, I am in a swamp boat, too," he said. "Anyway, let's just forget all of this bullshit. I have to go. I have another place to go. I hate it," Peter said.
"Awaw. I'm sorry. I thought you'd be able to find your shoes. They were beyond easy to find," I said.
"I was in a hurry," Peter said.
"Yeah, I get like that, too. I lose things when I am in a hurry. It makes me mad. Sorry, Peter," I said.
"It happens to you, too?" Peter asked.
"Oh yeah. Happened yesterday," I said.
"That's a bitch. Anyway, just try to ignore this bullshit. I know, easier said than done, but whatever," Peter said.
"Yeah, maybe I'll take the month off. Today is pretty shit already," I said.
"A month? How would you manage that? I'm lucky if I get a week off much less a month!" Peter said.
"At least you have a job! I'm unemployed because I'm an alligator!" the voice that sounded like Ted the Alligator yelled through Peter's phone. "And to top it off, I got neutered last week! You got it made, kid!"
"Jesus Christ!" Peter yelled as I heard a smash and him going "Whoa!!!" in the background. "I need to get the fuck out of here. Yeeeeee!!!!" I heard fast footsteps. "Fuck these shoes. Here, you can have them, Ted. I'll buy Dad a new pair. Good God fuck this shit!" The footsteps were getting louder.
I was cracking up. Ted tormented Peter yet again. I heard Ted laughing and munching on his shoes.
"What on Earth are you doing without shoes? What's going on? Are you finished with drywalling the attic yet?!" I heard Mr. Williamson's voice yelling at Peter.
"Ted can climb stairs!! Ted can climb stairs!! He's eating my shoes! No I haven't finished. He's trying to eat me!" Peter was screaming in a loud, high-pitched voice.
"Calm down. He's not trying to eat you. I sent him up there to check on your drywall. Are you almost done?" Mr. Williamson asked.
I was laughing without sound at this point.
"Yes!" Peter screamed in a girly, high-pitched voice. "Please get him out of there!" Peter was crying.
"All right! Ted! You can come down. Peter needs to finish the drywall," Mr. Williamson said.
"I really need to go," Peter said as he sounded exasperated. He was crying.
I was laughing. "See you next week. That's when you'll stop hating me," I said with a laugh.
"Fuck you," Peter said. Click.
I woke up as usual. It was around 11:15 a.m., and my usual routine was to turn my phone on and listen to heavy metal while having my first cup of coffee. I fucking hate mornings.
As I was turning my phone on, I saw missed call from Peter. He left an irate voicemail.
"Hey XARA! Where the fuck is my left shoe? I can't find it. I don't have time to find it. Fuck it. I'm wearing my dad's old shoes. This man has boats for feet, I swear! Ggrrrrrrrrr! Fuck you and fuck this morning. I'm late for work. Goddammit!" Peter said over voice message.
I cracked up. I called the disgruntled jerk back.
"Hello?" said an irate Peter.
I laughed over the phone. "Did you realize your shoe was in a copper hanging basket in on the porch? That shit was easy to find. Haha. And the other shoe was under the table. Easy to find," I said while being half awake.
"Nooooooooooooooooo, or I wouldn't have called you. Trust me. I have no interest in doing any sort of human interaction. Yes, I'm doing dry wall. I hate this world," Peter said
"You and me both. Haha. You were in a hurry, huh? Why?" I asked.
"Fuck if I know. I am slipping out of my shoes. This fucker has big feet. Why couldn't he have been a movie star? Nope. He had to be a drywall boss. Fuck me. Haha," Peter said.
"I don't know, but I just woke up," I said as I went downstairs to absent-mindedly make coffee.
"Ughhhhh... Fuck these shoes. Fuck this job. Fuck you. Why did you do this shit to me?" Peter asked. He sounded like he was gritting his teeth.
"Because fuck you. That's why," I said as I was grinding my coffee.
"Fuck you, too, bitch. The only reason we keep you around is because my mother needs you," he said.
"Psssh. Yeah, okay. She and I have been fighting, too," I said as I poured water in my coffee maker.
"Yeah. What the fuck is wrong with you two? She is fighting with me, too. I just assume she is under too much pressure with my dad and his GIANT feet. Size 15. Jesus. I wear a size 12! This is asinine. Bullshit. Why can't you get along with women? They don't hate you as much as they hate me," Peter said.
I rolled on the floor and laughed. "I'm PMSing and hate goddamn everybody. My anger is burning everything around me. The government shutdown is bullshit. Donald Trump is bullshit. I need more money. Your mother hates EVERYTHING I do. Women want to be like me, but I don't want to be like them. Pisses them off," I said.
"Haha. I'm pretty sure she resents the fact that I don't help with Dad enough. I'm sorry she's under a lot of pressure and that he wants to do this and do that and do whatever, but what the fuck am I supposed to do? I'm not a goddamn nurse. I have no bedside manner. The fuck am I supposed to do?" Peter asked.
"Fuck if I know. She's fucking impossible these days," I said.
"Well, she might be, but she's less impossible than you are. At least I halfway understand her. If I were her, I'd say fuck it and give him to another family member that isn't my son," he said.
"Oh fuck you. Because I like being jumped on when I walk through the door to actually do my job," I said. "I already felt horrible. I should have stayed home and said fuck it, but nooooooooooooooooo. I wanted us to have coffee I made fresh from whole beans and share out of a big chocolate box because the whole day was shit before it even started. I'm a nice person, PETER!!!!"
"Well you didn't have to throw the coffee table at my fucking head!" Peter said. "What the actual fuck was that about? And I still haven't found my GOOD brown shoes you hid some goddamn where else. One pair of brown shoes still has teeth marks from when Ted the Alligator gnawed at them. This is the kind of shit that makes you impossible."
"Well, maybe if people were more appreciative, I wouldn't have had to throw a coffee table!" I yelled.
"My dad was appreciative! Despite him having bigass feet and always finding random shit to do, he's a pretty fucking nice guy! Also, my mom is a stress ball and a half from everyone's razzle dazzle bullshit. So just try to forgive her. The fact that she's not institutionalized somewhere is a blessing," Peter said.
"Yeah, I know. I just feel like everyone takes their shit out on me. It just pisses me off sometimes. I try to do something nice, and it blows up. It's always like this no matter what I do and whom I do it for," I said quickly because my emotions were boiling over.
"Okay, okay. Slow down. You know I have to side with my parents. It's just code," Peter said.
"Ugh. I know. I wish you'd be more understanding of what I have to go through with YOUR FUCK LUCK. I feel like I have no allies. Except Joebear. But we're married, so that helps," I said.
"Well, I'm your ally when it is convenient for me. And occasionally I stick up for you on the rare occasion that you are correct," Peter said with a laugh.
"Fuck you. At least you're honest," I said.
"Well, you know. Fuck these shoes. I'm slipping off this bullshit ladder. These goddamn boats drive me crazy. Today, I am in a swamp boat, too," he said. "Anyway, let's just forget all of this bullshit. I have to go. I have another place to go. I hate it," Peter said.
"Awaw. I'm sorry. I thought you'd be able to find your shoes. They were beyond easy to find," I said.
"I was in a hurry," Peter said.
"Yeah, I get like that, too. I lose things when I am in a hurry. It makes me mad. Sorry, Peter," I said.
"It happens to you, too?" Peter asked.
"Oh yeah. Happened yesterday," I said.
"That's a bitch. Anyway, just try to ignore this bullshit. I know, easier said than done, but whatever," Peter said.
"Yeah, maybe I'll take the month off. Today is pretty shit already," I said.
"A month? How would you manage that? I'm lucky if I get a week off much less a month!" Peter said.
"At least you have a job! I'm unemployed because I'm an alligator!" the voice that sounded like Ted the Alligator yelled through Peter's phone. "And to top it off, I got neutered last week! You got it made, kid!"
"Jesus Christ!" Peter yelled as I heard a smash and him going "Whoa!!!" in the background. "I need to get the fuck out of here. Yeeeeee!!!!" I heard fast footsteps. "Fuck these shoes. Here, you can have them, Ted. I'll buy Dad a new pair. Good God fuck this shit!" The footsteps were getting louder.
I was cracking up. Ted tormented Peter yet again. I heard Ted laughing and munching on his shoes.
"What on Earth are you doing without shoes? What's going on? Are you finished with drywalling the attic yet?!" I heard Mr. Williamson's voice yelling at Peter.
"Ted can climb stairs!! Ted can climb stairs!! He's eating my shoes! No I haven't finished. He's trying to eat me!" Peter was screaming in a loud, high-pitched voice.
"Calm down. He's not trying to eat you. I sent him up there to check on your drywall. Are you almost done?" Mr. Williamson asked.
I was laughing without sound at this point.
"Yes!" Peter screamed in a girly, high-pitched voice. "Please get him out of there!" Peter was crying.
"All right! Ted! You can come down. Peter needs to finish the drywall," Mr. Williamson said.
"I really need to go," Peter said as he sounded exasperated. He was crying.
I was laughing. "See you next week. That's when you'll stop hating me," I said with a laugh.
"Fuck you," Peter said. Click.