Home » A Wasted Life » Murder Mysteries » If Those Shoes Could Talk – Chapter Three

If Those Shoes Could Talk – Chapter Three

I was sweating like a whore in church.  How was I going to explain why I was there and what I was doing?  My wheels were turning and I was wearing out my brain, trying to think of some reasonable explanation.

I could picture my demise.  “Hands up!” they would say, with guns drawn. “On the ground!  Show us your boobs.”  I doubt they would have said that but I was trying to comfort myself with humor.

“I’ll claim amnesia,” I thought.  “I’ll tell the officers that I don’t remember who I am but I thought maybe I had left my shoes in this little building, so I came here to look for them.”

Or maybe I could claim temporary insanity.  After all, I would beg…”someone would have to be crazy to go into a run-down, falling apart house or plow through waist-high weeds to look into a run-down, falling apart little building!”

Yeah, that would work…if it was the officer’s first minute on the job, or they had just fallen off the back of a turnip truck.

I started picturing the bright orange jumpsuits, leg-irons and my new best friend Helga, while simultaneously cursing my evil twin for having gotten me into this predicament in the first place.

Well, it would serve me right.  I had trespassed, broken and entered, nabbed a doily, was prepared to purloin shoes from the little building and I had no defense, other than said pretend amnesia or temporary insanity.

“Oh no!”  I thought.  What if they tack on “grave-robbing?  Shoe grave-robbing.”  That in itself would render a life sentence.  I was sure of it.  I would be a jail-bird.  I would be a long-termer.

It wasn’t the life I had always pictured for myself but sometimes, things just kind of go kittywampus, especially when you’re a convicted miscreant.

I was prepared to surrender and throw myself at the mercy of the officers. I was even prepared to show them my boobs, when I realized that the sirens were now in the distance.

They weren’t coming for me!  I had dodged a bullet!  I did a little happy dance and even forgave my evil twin by not casting her into the bowels of Hell.

Now a reasonably intelligent person, who had just had the bejesus scared out of them would pack up their ill-gotten booty and head for the safety of their own home…but there’s always that pesky exception.

With renewed fervor, I continued my quest to uncover those hidden pieces of history that bedecked the feet of people long ago, now gone back to seed.  After filling three rather large bags, I decided to end my criminal ways, at least temporarily…sort of like my insanity.


To be continued_______________________


3 thoughts on “If Those Shoes Could Talk – Chapter Three

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s