The following text is based on a true story.  Some of the names, places, and events were changed in order to more accurately represent my point of view of the events that transpired.

The year was 1993 and I was a 15 year old high school student.  Like many of my peers I had developed a fondness for chemicals that were known to alter the mental state of the person who imbibed them.  This fondness led me to seek out social gatherings on weekends, where chemicals of this nature might be found.  This story is of one such gathering that changed my life forever.

I had gotten a ride to this party with my good friend and trusted associate Bill.  The moment that I walk in I knew this party would be different from many others before it.  The mood was electric, the drinks were flowing, and smells both familiar and strange wafted through the small apartment.

As the night grew on the party became more festive, and so did I.  My mind had become a battleground where chemicals clashed and fought for control over my increasingly clumsy body.  In the end I lost the battle and darkness overtook me.

I awoke in the morning in the hallway of the apartment.  My head pounded as the last of the chemicals fought their terrible war in my brain.  As I looked around to get my bearings I noticed that my hand still clutched the last drink of the night.  The glass could only be described as a small punch bowl, filled with a mixture of beer, vodka, rum and Kool-Aid.  At the bottom of the class lay a cookie.  The sight of the drink brought forth a broken memory of standing in the kitchen, dipping cookies into the concoction and eating them.

What had transpired the night before?  A search of the residence would only turn up more questions than answers.

I made my way to the bathroom.  Inside there were clear signs of a struggle.  A gash in the wall triggered a third person vision inside my pounding head.  I saw myself assaulting another patron of the party over use of the toilet.  Had I won this brawl?  I would never know.

It was then that I noticed my feet.  My shoeless feet.  How had this happened?  My fingers were in no shape to have untied the intricate ties and knots that bound my footwear to me.  A further search of the apartment turned up a pair of white pumas in the corner.  I had worn black Nikes the night before.  The owner of the pumas must have had something to do with my shoes disappearance.  But who was he?  What was his motive?

Bill and I left the apartment never to return.  As I stepped outside I threw the pumas on the ground and swore an oath to find my missing shoes, no matter what the cost.

To be continued…

The next day at school word spread quickly of what had transpired, mainly because I told everyone who would listen.  A week past and I had not received any word of what had become of my shoes.  I was in the lunch room staring at a plate of tator-tots when I saw one of my close friends Kumar standing in a dark corner.

--I had met Kumar two years prior in Cuba, while on a privately funded mission to sell arms to an anti-Castro guerilla group.  Kumar was the group’s leader, and the man whom I was to deliver the rifles to.  Things turned bad, when it was discovered that I did not have the funds to supply the guerillas with the weapons that they needed, as I was only 13 at the time.  I was stabbed in the back of the knee with a Swiss army knife, and Kumar nursed me back to health.  I always suspected that he felt guilty because he was the one who stabbed me.  After regaining the use of my leg we fled back to America together.--

As I approached Kumar he pointed at my feet and handed me a scrap of paper.  On the paper was an address of a house that was no more than a mile from my current location.  I looked up to ask Kumar how he had come across this information, but he had already left.  Just as well I thought.  Kumar had never mastered the English language, and I never fully understood anything he said.

What did this address mean?  Was this the location of my shoes?  Was this a trap?  What would be my next move?

The authorities were and option.  But I quickly dismissed this idea.  I had been involved in activities that could be construed as illegal and the local police tended to look down on such things.  No this was a civil matter, and called for a vigilante style of justice.  One thing was for certain I would need backup, or a least a ride… because I had no car.

Bill took me after school to the address.  We pulled up and I told him to wait across the street with the car running.  As I reached the front door I tried to brace myself for whatever I might find on the other side.

I rang the doorbell.  After several seconds a man answered.  Yes, his face did look familiar.  Had he been at the party?  It was hard to say as I still did not remember much of it.

I stared him down and coldly said “I would like my shoes back.”

“Come inside.” He replied.

I followed him in, but left the door open behind me.  “They are in the back, I will go get them.” the bastard said.  The room was littered with beer cans, and smelled of incense.  A water pipe leaned against the wall in the corner, and the thought occurred to me that under different circumstances I might have become friends with this man.  But this was not a social call.  More important issues were at hand.  Besides the time constraints of the mission did not allow for small talk or festivities, Bill had to be at work soon.

The kidnapper returned with my shoes, and handed them to me.  I took them and looked him in the eye and said “Why?”

“I was so drunk that I did not know what I was doing.”

Was I supposed to buy this explanation?  It did not matter I thought I have what I came for.  I turned and left.

As Bill and I drove off, I took one last look at the house and shook my head.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  The nightmare was finally over, and my shoes had come home.

Did your bung-hole feel "different' that day?

I'm in need of some extra time...... Wedge, can i borrow some?  You really seem to have an abundance of that.

Way Too Much Free Time!!!!!!!

As promised I shall do the introspective "A boy and his AT-AT" next.  Thank you for indulging me in letting me do this one first.

Creative genuis is a sure sign of Holiness.

I will see you in Heaven Wedge,,,,,I'll be the one with the Jesus action foigure.

Did all of this take place in Kansas.  I really didn't know they had "kool-aid" in Kansas.  At-Ats, yes.  "Kool-Aid", no.

I know that I shall suffer for posting this 11kb file on a board where the avatar size limit is 12 kb.

But I must.

Trap or not, I am compelled to post it.

And, as always, it is free for all to use.


ETA: Will I pay the price for my lack of vision?

Quoted: I know that I shall suffer for posting this 11kb file on a board where the avatar size limit is 12 kb. But I must. Trap or not, I am compelled to post it. And, as always, it is free for all to use. ETA: Will I pay the price for my lack of vision?

You, sir, lack an appreciation of the finer things in life.

Quoted: Quoted: I know that I shall suffer for posting this 11kb file on a board where the avatar size limit is 12 kb. But I must. Trap or not, I am compelled to post it. And, as always, it is free for all to use. ETA: Will I pay the price for my lack of vision? You, sir, lack an appreciation of the finer things in life.

The word "Philistine" has always been very dear to me.

Quoted: Creative genuis is a sure sign of Holiness. I will see you in Heaven Wedge,,,,,I'll be the one with the Jesus action foigure.

I don't know how creative this is, most of it is a true story.  But I shall see you in heaven non the less.  I will be the one with the AT-AT.

Quoted: <snip> I rang the doorbell.  After several seconds a man answered.  Yes, his face did look familiar.  Had he been at the party?  It was hard to say as I still did not remember much of it.

Was it one of these?

I look forward to future installments!

Quoted: Quoted: <snip> I rang the doorbell.  After several seconds a man answered.  Yes, his face did look familiar.  Had he been at the party?  It was hard to say as I still did not remember much of it. Was it one of these? www.tribute.ca/tribute_objects/images/movies/the_salton_sea/thesaltonsea2.jpg

That is him, the guy on the left.

well I liked it.

Been hanging out with Hunter haven't you.  Stay away from the ether, vile stuff.  

And most of all....."DON'T STOP HERE!!! IT'S BAT COUNTRY"

Quoted: Been hanging out with Hunter haven't you.  Stay away from the ether, vile stuff.   And most of all....."DON'T STOP HERE!!! IT'S BAT COUNTRY"

I tried my best to keep it in his style.  Mostly a true story though.

eta - As far as the ether, I new we would get into that vile stuff soon enough.

tag for when i get a chance to get a glimpse of an evil genius's mind....

You fired using both barrels on this one.  Fine work.  I shall compose an anecdotal poem in your honor following the AT-AT composition.

but did the hippy stoner drunk get his Pumas back????

--I had met Kumar two years prior in Cuba, while on a privately funded mission to sell arms to an anti-Castro guerilla group. Kumar was the group’s leader, and the man whom I was to deliver the rifles to. Things turned bad, when it was discovered that I did not have the funds to supply the guerillas with the weapons that they needed, as I was only 13 at the time. I was stabbed in the back of the knee with a Swiss army knife, and Kumar nursed me back to health. I always suspected that he felt guilty because he was the one who stabbed me. After regaining the use of my leg we fled back to America together.--

Mostly true??

Tagged

Quoted: but did the hippy stoner drunk get his Pumas back????

I have often wondered the same thing.  He was bare foot when he answered the door.

Quoted: --I had met Kumar two years prior in Cuba, while on a privately funded mission to sell arms to an anti-Castro guerilla group. Kumar was the group’s leader, and the man whom I was to deliver the rifles to. Things turned bad, when it was discovered that I did not have the funds to supply the guerillas with the weapons that they needed, as I was only 13 at the time. I was stabbed in the back of the knee with a Swiss army knife, and Kumar nursed me back to health. I always suspected that he felt guilty because he was the one who stabbed me. After regaining the use of my leg we fled back to America together.-- Mostly true??

I just think Wedge has watched The Royal Tanenbaums a few to many times.

Who's Bill?

Quoted: Who's Bill?

Guy on the left...

Quoted: Quoted: --I had met Kumar two years prior in Cuba, while on a privately funded mission to sell arms to an anti-Castro guerilla group. Kumar was the group’s leader, and the man whom I was to deliver the rifles to. Things turned bad, when it was discovered that I did not have the funds to supply the guerillas with the weapons that they needed, as I was only 13 at the time. I was stabbed in the back of the knee with a Swiss army knife, and Kumar nursed me back to health. I always suspected that he felt guilty because he was the one who stabbed me. After regaining the use of my leg we fled back to America together.-- Mostly true?? I just think Wedge has watched The Royal Tanenbaums a few to many times.

Most impressive.... but do you know where Kumar came from?

Quoted: Quoted: Who's Bill? Guy on the left... squadron.ru/files/2/721.gif

My attorney.  I think he is Samoan.

Quoted: Quoted: Quoted: --I had met Kumar two years prior in Cuba, while on a privately funded mission to sell arms to an anti-Castro guerilla group. Kumar was the group’s leader, and the man whom I was to deliver the rifles to. Things turned bad, when it was discovered that I did not have the funds to supply the guerillas with the weapons that they needed, as I was only 13 at the time. I was stabbed in the back of the knee with a Swiss army knife, and Kumar nursed me back to health. I always suspected that he felt guilty because he was the one who stabbed me. After regaining the use of my leg we fled back to America together.-- Mostly true?? I just think Wedge has watched The Royal Tanenbaums a few to many times. Most impressive.... but do you know where Kumar came from?

Off the top of my head I'm thinking it was either Tibet or Nepal.

Quoted: Quoted: Quoted: Quoted: --I had met Kumar two years prior in Cuba, while on a privately funded mission to sell arms to an anti-Castro guerilla group. Kumar was the group’s leader, and the man whom I was to deliver the rifles to. Things turned bad, when it was discovered that I did not have the funds to supply the guerillas with the weapons that they needed, as I was only 13 at the time. I was stabbed in the back of the knee with a Swiss army knife, and Kumar nursed me back to health. I always suspected that he felt guilty because he was the one who stabbed me. After regaining the use of my leg we fled back to America together.-- Mostly true?? I just think Wedge has watched The Royal Tanenbaums a few to many times. Most impressive.... but do you know where Kumar came from? Off the top of my head I'm thinking it was either Tibet or Nepal.

Movie called Bottle Rocket.  Same guy that stabbed Royal was in Bottle Rocket and his name was Kumar.  It was the first movie that the director of Royal Tamenbaums did, with the second being Rushmore.  On Bottle Rocket you have to stay with it for awhile it gets slow, but there is a huge payoff towards the end when they pull their last heist.  Very funny.

www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0767821408/qid%3D1095368553/sr%3D11-1/ref%3Dsr%5F11%5F1/104-6975427-1909531

I've got the Rushmore soundtrack.  MOST excellent.

Quoted: I've got the Rushmore soundtrack.  MOST excellent.

I have a feeling that you would like Bottle Rocket.  Go rent it now.

Quoted: Good read, Wedge.  Whatever became of those fine shoes?

They lived the rest of their lives on my feet.  Now they are in that great shoe store in the sky.

Quoted: wtf? did super greg get re-incarnated???

Who is that?