"My feet could hold up a plane’’, I
tell her as she squashes my toes as hard as she can with her fingers, pressing
down with all her substantial weight on top of my boots.
She wants me to take them off, to
investigate them for drugs. She has to she says, its procedure. Ive never
been one to follow procedure and nether have my feet.
She’s bent down in front of me and shes
breathing a little fast and hard.
I can’t tell if it’s from the force of
pushing down on my toes or if she has a secerate foot fetish, this would be the
job for it right, getting to watch people take on and off their shoes all day.
I had a lover one who liked to get spegitti sucked through her toes, does she?
or maybe she’s a lesbian and she knows these boots scream sex or the chair
really does do it for her…
She looks up at me, like I annoy her more
than excite her, we are treading that fine-line of annoyance turned into
passion
that would work for us if we were lovers.
She thinks she holds the power here but I
know my feet do.
She says it again, ‘’you going to have to
take your boots off, we
need to drug test them, we cant give you
special treatment you know’’.
I say: ‘’well if you want them off you’re
going to have to help me and help me get them back on, that could take a while
cos when my feet get emotional they get uncooperative and you’re making them
upset touching them like that’’ I almost add a honey at the end but that would
be pushing it.
She looks at me like either I must have
taken all the drugs she was thinking are hidden in my boots smuggled from hills
of Nimbin or that im a bit special in the head. I am wearing my new favourite
shirt, which I now think may have been a bad idea and part of what set her
off.
It says im so hornet with a cartoon hornet
on it, and my hair is dyed newly bright red and dishevelled from having to get
up far too early and skip my morning essential coffee to struggle to get my
cranky feet into these boots. She stands up and calls a guy over to come and
swab boots, and looks like she’s come to the conclusion that either I am high
or crazy or both but defently capable of having feet which could hold up a
plane.
She says; ‘’you can go, but I hope your
mother knows what you did to your hair’’ I want to say honey, my mother did my
hair but that might make her think I come from a family eccentric werdos
and we would end up locked in the foot battle again.
