Boiling Cabbage In My Winners

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Look back, and smile at perils past.—Sir Walter Scott

    Came back from an average day at the Arco tonight, plopped down in my broken crack motel room barcolounger, kicked off my shoes and discovered something. My feet smell like boiling cabbage.

    It’s time to burn those socks and buy this year’s pair. My Sears sneakers, brand name ‘Winner‘, are getting kinda ripe and raggedy, too. I’d better put in some overtime so I can afford a pair of Payless replacements. Or, I could scrounge around in the dumpsters for some interim size 10s.

    My superstitious chiropractor friend thinks that personal items carry with them the personality of their original owner, though, even after they’re thrown out. So if I’m going to walk in someone else’s shoes, I might as well do my dumpster shopping in Beverly Hills rather than Compton.
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