So, there is this lady in the shelter I am living at who happens to be homicidal. Her slipper went missing yesterday and all hell broke loose. I assure you this…I can’t lie all the time ya know. 😉
In my head I just blasted her left and right and laughed til I cried. I was like, “Bitch, you ain’t got no slipper because you ain’t got no prince!” Then my friend goes, “Good thing she made it home before midnight.”
Then she literally threatened to kill herself over her missing slipper. I shit you not.
So, then I told a story about the time that I lost MY slipper at midnight. I was walking home wasted as always on New Year’s Eve. I slipped and fell on ice and my ass landed on my left foot and broke it. Good times. I cried and bitched that night but no one believed that it was broken. So, long story short…I shut the fuck up and I gave a man a blow job, who of course didn’t deserve it. Then the next morning, I drove my ass home alone and took me to the hospital.
Flash forward years later, and I happen to meet a man that also lost his slipper playing basket ball in a mental institution because, he too, was fucked up on drugs. He happened to break his right foot and I am sure there was some bitching and moaning as usual.
But the bitching and moaning didn’t last too long, because I tell you this:
In the end, they found each other and entered a three-legged race … the only race where you can tie yourself to someone else’s GOOD feet and hips and run like idiots to the finish line together. The way it should be done. Favorite race. I always kicked ass in that race.