These shoes have zippers in the back.
They don’t work, have no discernible purpose.
One reason men are glad they are not women.
In the shoe store some 3 dozen women were busily looking at and trying on shoes. In tow with about a handful of them were their pained-looking husbands and boyfriends.
I walked down an aisle and came to an end divider that housed a bench. Sitting on the bench was a bulky dude in a silk-screened T-shirt, babying several shoe boxes in one arm while in the act of pulling out his cell phone to check sport scores or access something on-line with the other. He looked tired, bored, restless … and sad.
I came nearer, bent over him and addressed him in a low voice: “It’s like pulling teeth … isn’t it?”
“Dude, you have NO clue. I’m dying here …” he confessed
I dropped my eyes in understanding, patted him on the shoulder and encouraged him. “Hang in there. It will be over soon. I promise.”
He sighed and nodded. I saluted him by touching my Kindle to my forehead, walked to a bench myself, sat down and began reading.
Adventure Time ... 