The case of the marmalade shoes and the scary man
I had an odd dream last night. I was in a queue, waiting to get into a busy store. Perhaps it was Christmas or some other hectic busy time of year. I was waiting alone when a scary man arrived and starting talking to me about really horrible things, graphic portraits of death, explicitly horrible sexual acts and so forth.
I didn't know where to look while he was telling me these things, so I cast my eyes down on the floor and noticed that my shoes had gone. "I was definitely wearing shoes a minute ago" I thought. But I carried on looking at my feet as though nothing was wrong, as though it was completely normal for me to be wearing only a pair of socks in a cold busy queue.
The man kept waffling on for some time, but all I could think about were my shoes. Where had they gone? How did I not notice? How could I have missed the loosening velcro sound?
After a while the man got bored and left. He moved further down the queue to tell some other people scary things, but soon faded into the distance. Then I looked at where he'd been standing and lo-behold - there were my shoes! but there was something different about them. The man had somehow slipped them off my feet while he was talking to me and covered them in marmalade.
This broke my heart.
The last thing you want covering your shoes is marmalade, I thought. I tried to remove it, but it wouldn't go anywhere. I was frustrated and heartbroken and very very angry at the man, even though he'd used shredless marmalade, which is my preferred kind.
I wanted to go after him and give him a piece of my mind, but I also didn't want to lose my place in the queue, so instead I resigned myself to waiting. I slid my shoes back on and they made a rich glooping sound as my foot went in.
I stood there in my green and orange shoes and continued to wait until I finally woke up.
I checked my shoes - there was no marmalade on them. I was happy about this.
I didn't know where to look while he was telling me these things, so I cast my eyes down on the floor and noticed that my shoes had gone. "I was definitely wearing shoes a minute ago" I thought. But I carried on looking at my feet as though nothing was wrong, as though it was completely normal for me to be wearing only a pair of socks in a cold busy queue.
The man kept waffling on for some time, but all I could think about were my shoes. Where had they gone? How did I not notice? How could I have missed the loosening velcro sound?
After a while the man got bored and left. He moved further down the queue to tell some other people scary things, but soon faded into the distance. Then I looked at where he'd been standing and lo-behold - there were my shoes! but there was something different about them. The man had somehow slipped them off my feet while he was talking to me and covered them in marmalade.
This broke my heart.
The last thing you want covering your shoes is marmalade, I thought. I tried to remove it, but it wouldn't go anywhere. I was frustrated and heartbroken and very very angry at the man, even though he'd used shredless marmalade, which is my preferred kind.
I wanted to go after him and give him a piece of my mind, but I also didn't want to lose my place in the queue, so instead I resigned myself to waiting. I slid my shoes back on and they made a rich glooping sound as my foot went in.
I stood there in my green and orange shoes and continued to wait until I finally woke up.
I checked my shoes - there was no marmalade on them. I was happy about this.