HavocWizard
10-07-2004, 09:38 PM
Well, my English teacher brought in a bunch of shoes, and we had to right a story about one of them. I chose a shoe that was made of cork, because I thought it was funny. I'm quite proud of my story, and I'm wondering how you would like it.
Shoe Story
The shoe had seen many moons. Many uses. When it was born, it sat in a store in New York. It saw the rise of many things. The rise of Mr. McKay to manager. The rise of tower. The rise (and lowering) of the heels. Yes, it had seen it all, or so it thought. One day the shoe was picked off the rack where it lived, and was thrust into a bag. Inside the bag, the shoe heard voices.
“Are you sure you want this shoe?”
“Yes mom.”
“But it’s made of cork.”
“It’s comfortable.”
The shoe thought that it was going insane. It was disturbed by the idea of being made of cork, but the idea of comforting things appealed to it. The shoe strongly believed in helping people, even if it was the voices in its head.
So, the shoe was treaded on all through the streets of New York. It got to know Broadway like the back of its nonexistent hand. It didn’t matter that it carried a heavy burden on its shoulders, the shoe got to see new things. Exciting things, like newspapers, pennies, quarters, and of course, other shoes.
But New York can get boring. Traversing the same street every day, can do things to you, and Broadway is quite the monotonous street when you’re below the rest of the world. The shoe wanted to move up, and up it went. All the way up to Hollywood. Technically, the shoe went all the way west to Hollywood, but our hero wasn’t the type to be interested in technicalities.
Apparently the shoe was attractive because it went to many auditions. Auditions for what? The shoe couldn’t tell, but the cork did things to people (the shoe was hearing voices for God’s sake!), and the burden on the shoes shoulders was propelled up to stardom. And while it was really the media who made the shoe’s burden go up the ladder of celebrity-dom, it was the shoe itself who got its famous burden from “point a”, to “point b”.
Many pictures were taken of our star carrying main character, and of the star that it carried. The shoe was perplexed, however, by the fact that if it was carrying a star, why hadn’t it burnt up yet.
The life of a celebrity was better than a life of being burnt to a crisp, so the confused shoe lived life in the spotlight. It was privy to things that even tabloids didn’t know about. This was amazing, since tabloids knew about things that hadn’t even happened.
The shoe went to many exotic places to film things called movies. It went to hot places, with lots of sand, wet places with lots of water, and green places, with lots of leprechauns. No one else saw them, but the shoe knew they were there.
And of course filming lots of movies means going to lots of premieres. The shoe went to so many; it became good friend with the red carpet, and had many a good laugh.
But all that changed during a film shooting, in the Himalaya Mountains. They were filming an action/drama movie. This one “was a sure Oscar winner,” said a voice. Filming went smoothly, until that fateful scene. One moment the shoe was running from the “killer,” and the next moment it was tumbling down a 10,000 foot mountain. The shoe hit the ground, and blacked out.
The shoe woke up, exited about the new day, like a football player is exited about the big game. Then it realized it was cold, very, very cold. So cold, the freezing shoe realized that if there was a hell, it was in Antarctica.
The shoe spent many days cold, thinking it was dead, freezing in that Antarctic hell, until one glorious day. A day that was more than glorious than any day preceding it, for on that day, the shoe was picked up by warm tender hands. Then it was stuffed into a bag.
The bag was cramped, but its contents shared their warmth. The shoe was cramped, but happy that it was still alive. The shoe even started to hear the voices again. They came from outside of the bag. They were warm voices, but the shoe couldn’t understand the language that they were speaking.
For the next few weeks, our rescued hero stayed in the bag. The other items in the bag were the strong, silent type, so they didn’t talk much. Plus, they weren’t the smartest items ever. So the shoe listened to the voices, and slowly they learned the language that they spoke. It was called “Italiano.”
The shoe learned many things from the “Italiano” speaking voices.
They were “hikers” from “Italy,” who found the shoe behind some “rocks off the trail.” Soon they would take a “plane,” back to “Italy” were they would be reunite with their “wives.” However, our Italian understanding hero had no idea what any of that meant. They were words that it had never heard of before.
Finally, the shoe heard the sounds of the city once again, and was ecstatic; it had been such a long time since its glory days in Hollywood. The shoe was packed into a suitcase, and was moved around a lot. It heard something about a “plane.” The shoe had no idea what was happening, but it was a heck of a lot better than life in that Antarctic hell.
But no one stays excited forever, and since there are very few things to do in a suitcase, the shoe fell asleep. For a longer time than most can sleep.
Our tired hero awoke in a very warm, sunny place. The sun was shining on the grass, and hundreds of grape vines that were laid out in rows. The wind was pleasantly blowing, creating a cool sensation everywhere.
A burden was once again on the shoes shoulders, and it felt almost nice. If the shoe was carrying about a hundred pounds less, our encumbered hero would have been very happy.
The shoe however, soon found life in this new place boring. The shoe had carried around the burden a few times, but now it lived in an old dust ridden, cobweb filled room, which the voices called “the attic.”
Hard times were pressed upon the shoe. It spent an eternity in that “attic,” until one fateful night, when it could hear the voices once again.
“Look, a cork shoe. This could stop about five bottles.”
“Luka, it’s a shoe.”
“But one made of cork.”
“Alright, fine.”
And just like that, our poor hero was split apart, and due to the pain in its life, spent the rest of its days, a drunkard slob, charged with the task of keeping wine in a bottle.
Shoe Story
The shoe had seen many moons. Many uses. When it was born, it sat in a store in New York. It saw the rise of many things. The rise of Mr. McKay to manager. The rise of tower. The rise (and lowering) of the heels. Yes, it had seen it all, or so it thought. One day the shoe was picked off the rack where it lived, and was thrust into a bag. Inside the bag, the shoe heard voices.
“Are you sure you want this shoe?”
“Yes mom.”
“But it’s made of cork.”
“It’s comfortable.”
The shoe thought that it was going insane. It was disturbed by the idea of being made of cork, but the idea of comforting things appealed to it. The shoe strongly believed in helping people, even if it was the voices in its head.
So, the shoe was treaded on all through the streets of New York. It got to know Broadway like the back of its nonexistent hand. It didn’t matter that it carried a heavy burden on its shoulders, the shoe got to see new things. Exciting things, like newspapers, pennies, quarters, and of course, other shoes.
But New York can get boring. Traversing the same street every day, can do things to you, and Broadway is quite the monotonous street when you’re below the rest of the world. The shoe wanted to move up, and up it went. All the way up to Hollywood. Technically, the shoe went all the way west to Hollywood, but our hero wasn’t the type to be interested in technicalities.
Apparently the shoe was attractive because it went to many auditions. Auditions for what? The shoe couldn’t tell, but the cork did things to people (the shoe was hearing voices for God’s sake!), and the burden on the shoes shoulders was propelled up to stardom. And while it was really the media who made the shoe’s burden go up the ladder of celebrity-dom, it was the shoe itself who got its famous burden from “point a”, to “point b”.
Many pictures were taken of our star carrying main character, and of the star that it carried. The shoe was perplexed, however, by the fact that if it was carrying a star, why hadn’t it burnt up yet.
The life of a celebrity was better than a life of being burnt to a crisp, so the confused shoe lived life in the spotlight. It was privy to things that even tabloids didn’t know about. This was amazing, since tabloids knew about things that hadn’t even happened.
The shoe went to many exotic places to film things called movies. It went to hot places, with lots of sand, wet places with lots of water, and green places, with lots of leprechauns. No one else saw them, but the shoe knew they were there.
And of course filming lots of movies means going to lots of premieres. The shoe went to so many; it became good friend with the red carpet, and had many a good laugh.
But all that changed during a film shooting, in the Himalaya Mountains. They were filming an action/drama movie. This one “was a sure Oscar winner,” said a voice. Filming went smoothly, until that fateful scene. One moment the shoe was running from the “killer,” and the next moment it was tumbling down a 10,000 foot mountain. The shoe hit the ground, and blacked out.
The shoe woke up, exited about the new day, like a football player is exited about the big game. Then it realized it was cold, very, very cold. So cold, the freezing shoe realized that if there was a hell, it was in Antarctica.
The shoe spent many days cold, thinking it was dead, freezing in that Antarctic hell, until one glorious day. A day that was more than glorious than any day preceding it, for on that day, the shoe was picked up by warm tender hands. Then it was stuffed into a bag.
The bag was cramped, but its contents shared their warmth. The shoe was cramped, but happy that it was still alive. The shoe even started to hear the voices again. They came from outside of the bag. They were warm voices, but the shoe couldn’t understand the language that they were speaking.
For the next few weeks, our rescued hero stayed in the bag. The other items in the bag were the strong, silent type, so they didn’t talk much. Plus, they weren’t the smartest items ever. So the shoe listened to the voices, and slowly they learned the language that they spoke. It was called “Italiano.”
The shoe learned many things from the “Italiano” speaking voices.
They were “hikers” from “Italy,” who found the shoe behind some “rocks off the trail.” Soon they would take a “plane,” back to “Italy” were they would be reunite with their “wives.” However, our Italian understanding hero had no idea what any of that meant. They were words that it had never heard of before.
Finally, the shoe heard the sounds of the city once again, and was ecstatic; it had been such a long time since its glory days in Hollywood. The shoe was packed into a suitcase, and was moved around a lot. It heard something about a “plane.” The shoe had no idea what was happening, but it was a heck of a lot better than life in that Antarctic hell.
But no one stays excited forever, and since there are very few things to do in a suitcase, the shoe fell asleep. For a longer time than most can sleep.
Our tired hero awoke in a very warm, sunny place. The sun was shining on the grass, and hundreds of grape vines that were laid out in rows. The wind was pleasantly blowing, creating a cool sensation everywhere.
A burden was once again on the shoes shoulders, and it felt almost nice. If the shoe was carrying about a hundred pounds less, our encumbered hero would have been very happy.
The shoe however, soon found life in this new place boring. The shoe had carried around the burden a few times, but now it lived in an old dust ridden, cobweb filled room, which the voices called “the attic.”
Hard times were pressed upon the shoe. It spent an eternity in that “attic,” until one fateful night, when it could hear the voices once again.
“Look, a cork shoe. This could stop about five bottles.”
“Luka, it’s a shoe.”
“But one made of cork.”
“Alright, fine.”
And just like that, our poor hero was split apart, and due to the pain in its life, spent the rest of its days, a drunkard slob, charged with the task of keeping wine in a bottle.