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In The Life Of A Shoe Essay

, Research Paper

In the Life of a Shoe

By Lance

Squeak, squeak, and squeak. That s all I ever hear on a floor walked on for centuries. Hi, my name is Lenny the left shoe. I come from a little shoe factory north of Korea called Gurushi shoe factory, it s a little place, no one even knows it exists. I started off in a town called Sicily, a domain of Italy if you didn t know. I was held in a little store called Francis s Shoes. He was a nice man, small, alone, and gentle.

One afternoon a man by the name of Kindred Harrison, an owner of a chair store across the street, had walked in the store with a little boy. I suppose it was his birthday with the crown he wore from a nearby Burger King that said Happy Birthday on it. His name was Florencio Harrison, son of Kindred Harrison. He just turned eight years old, I knew because I overheard him telling Francis at the front desk. Florencio wanted the perfect pair of shoes, Francis asked him what size shoe he wore. He responded with a twelve. I was ecstatic, I was the only pair left of that shoe size. They came over to me and tried me on. It was just right, the boy was just as happy.

Later that day he had taken me out of the shoebox to show his mother, she just as well loved me. We went out that night to a nearby Chucke Cheese s to celebrate his eighth birthday. It was so exciting, I had never seen so much happiness in one place before. We started off at an arcade game, which didn t excite me to much as I couldn t see anything. Then we went to the table to eat some pizza, little Florencio hadn t noticed but he dropped a pepperoni on me, but it didn t matter, it s not like it killed me. After a slice of pizza he went straight for the ball pit. I didn t seem to enjoy it much because I was placed in a hole for about twenty minutes or so till a man had grabbed me out and ran away.

I was scared, this wasn t my owner. What had happened to Florencio? Why was this man running with me? He ran till he could not breathe, he walked the rest of the way home, to a place where he gave me to a boy who would only take out my tongue, and rip out my sole, to only throw me away. The next morning I woke up to a place called Al s trash service to find myself ruined and destroyed. The right shoe was gone I noticed as I lay there helpless. I had no tongue, which didn t matter because I could not speak, and also to find I had no soul .