The Nike Sneakers remember New Years 2010

The Nike Sneakers

In the process of cleaning his room, Zucker takes his Nike sneakers from the center of his room and places them in his closet. The other clothes and jackets are surprised and curious about the shoes, both covered in a strange foulness.

~ Jesus, kids, what happened to you?

– Oh wow, what day is it?

= It’s Saturday.

– The second?!

= Yeah.

~ What the hell happened, Nike?

– Oh man, our head.

• Give them a minute, Houndstooth.

There were bits of vomit and grit on the bright white laces and brown suede bodies of both the left and right Nike Air Force One sneaker. Together they embodied the pain of the hangover instilled in the stains of funky yellow and red.

~ Is someone gonna’ clean you up?

– We don’t know. He took his orthotics out of us.

= Yeah, that means he won’t be wearing you anytime soon.

• Shut up, Adidas, you’re not helping.

= Yeah well neither are you. Get up and do something about it!

~ Everyone shut up. Now Nike, what happened out there?

– It was actually quite fun for a little while…

And the Nike Air Force Ones told the jackets and wardrobe about the New Years Party in the North End, a bacchanal with friends of Zucker’s that ended disastrously. They told them about the booze and the mixers and the h’orderves and the party hats, the ties and the suits and the dresses. Some girls really pushed the fashion bar, some others were down in their own. They told them about the girl who came with another, her style and her body the prize of the party. They told them of when the ball dropped, and when the champagne pushed Zucker over the edge. His feet told the shoes of the thoughts in his head, his apprehension and patience and fear for the worst as he drunkenly stumbled from the couch to the locked bathroom door, knocking tactlessly to gain entrance in front of everyone still there.

= Holy shit, they were having sex in the bathroom?

– Yeah, with the girl he was hitting on the whole night.

A wave of boos and hisses fill the wardrobe in disapproval.

= What kind of shit is that?! That shit just doesn’t happen, Nike! I should have been there; Zucker would’ve been on top of his shit.

– It was a fancy party, Adidas. It was no place for a sports liner. The Victorinox wool coat did just fine.

= Shows what you know.

– Where is Vic, anyway?

• He’s not here.

– Oh, no. We don’t know what happened to Vic when we left. We hope it’s alright. Damn, it was embarrassing…

The Nike sneakers went on to explain the bathroom situation.

– The guy came out of the bathroom first, and said, ‘Give her a minute.’ Zucker gave her three seconds and went inside. She was still putting on her clothes. ‘What’s wrong,’ she asked, calmly and concerned – she talked to him all night – and before he could answer, Zucker made his point clear all over the toilet and floor. ‘Oh, wow,’ the girl said, as if impressed by the grotesque beauty of Zucker’s raw presentation. Quickly and scared, she vacated the bathroom, with clothes in her hands and her hands over her mouth. We remember Zucker’s friend, Ryan, coming in to assist us shortly after. He brought forth the mop and cleaned up the floor. Zucker and we sat helplessly on the towel bench. We exited the bathroom to less people than before – no faces remembered – and the party was officially over.

~ Shit, Nike. That sounds like a pretty messed up party.

= I can’t believe that girl ended up screwing some guy in the bathroom!

– Yeah, we can’t believe it either. He was trying so hard to get close to her.

• I bet it was her boyfriend.

– That makes sense. He showed up late too. We don’t even remember what he looks like.

• Yeah, definitely the boyfriend.

= Hey, Camel Hair, who gives a hell who it was?

• I’m just saying!

~ She probably wasn’t right for him anyway. I mean, who has sex in the bathroom anymore?

= I do.

~ That’s great,  real mature.

All of a sudden, Zucker came into the closet with more clothes and hangers and began to make a lot of commotion. He rearranged boxes and clothing and belts. He took his golf clubs out and cleared up the space around it. The Victorinox wool coat came in and was hung on a hook above all the other hangers.

– Vic!

+ Ah, you’re doing alright then, Nike?

– We guess… we thought you got left behind.

+ No, I was around. Hey everyone, what’s going on?

= Your guess is as good as ours.

~ I think he’s cleaning up.

* About time.

– Whoa, look out!

The Nike Shoes were moved around once again, this time next to other shoes not seen before. A mad flurry of movement occurred in the span of a few minutes, but the changes left them all hanging in awe. And somehow, even after Victorinox gave its side of the story – the twisted maze of city streets and cross walking, dry-heaving in alleyways in plain site to the world; helpless cab-hailings and directories on hold and even after blackout directions to the street of his house – everyone knew Zucker would be alright.

First Date, First Kiss


~ Well, this was a really great night.

The closing remarks on an otherwise entertaining date were taking place. In the cab now, we know what we want, but have trouble expressing it. Perhaps she doesn’t feel the way I do.

Yeah, I had a really good time with you.

~ Yeah, this was fun…

Can I come in with you?

The question was the move, in my eyes. The intention to join her so late in the evening only brought up feelings of lust, not plutonic enrichment. It was a date, after all.

~ You want to?

Yeah, I’d like that.

We exchange a smile; a look of agreement. We step out of the cab, fare 22 bucks, all on me. She walks in front of me towards her apartment building. I’m one step behind her, watching her walk and smelling her scent. We walk through the main entrance of her building, and call the elevator. She pushes the call button, and then turns around to face me. I walk up close to her, and my body connects with hers; I pull her closer with my arms, embrace her, and give her a kiss. Her eyes close as our lips touch and a breathe of satisfaction holds the air for several seconds. She smells like vanilla and cherries.

~ Wow. You don’t waste any time, do you?

I suppose not, not when our time matters so much.

The right answer. Saying it right makes her feel the right way. I’ve never been so lucky to have you, is the message conveyed, and she picks up on it immediately.

The elevator door opens and a young couple exits the elevator, watching us as they pass. The girl looks at me, the guy looks at her. We smile back, enter the elevator, and begin kissing passionately before the doors close. We didn’t press any buttons; we stayed on the first floor for several minutes, unaware of time.

We only became aware of time when the couple that we saw earlier came back and called the elevator again. The doors open to us entwined, and we broke apart suddenly before the doors fully opened, but they got the point.

* Oh, we’ll take the stairs…

~ No, no, it’s fine; we got a little carried away.

Yeah, it’s alright, come on in. We’re going up!

My excitement is making me confident and my energy level is high as we welcome them back into the elevator awkwardly. The guy looks embarrassed and the girl is giving me looks.

* Which floor are you going to?

~ Seven please.

The guy hits seven and eight on the button pad. The numbers go as high as twelve. The elevator moves slowly, and the sexual tension is growing as the couple with us picks up on our intentions. I think they had the same thing on their minds as us. We quickly exit the elevator and enter her apartment, the second door left of the elevator.

With this newfound bravado and confidence, I take her hand again as we enter her apartment, a bare living room with a Yamaha sound receiver, a vinyl record player, and two retro-looking tower speakers. I engage her with hugs and kisses, this time without a care in the world. We drop our jackets where we stand; holding each other at the waists, our upper bodies are slightly curved outwards, and our lower bodies are connected by denim and heat. We were a flower in bloom during the darkest hour of the night.

I’ve been waiting to do that for a long time.

~ What kept you so long?

She smiles her smile, and I am at a loss for words.

I didn’t know how you felt about me.

~ Well now you do.

I do now.

We embrace again, and the spotlight leaves us as the view regresses out the window of her front-view apartment, above the city skyline it overlooks, and beyond the clouds that cover them. Even from up there, you can see our love like the North Star.


I have no tolerance for mismatched socks.

No tolerance.

No tolerance for mismatched socks.

I have no tolerance,

Zero tolerance,

No tolerance for mismatched socks.

I have no tolerance for mismatched socks.

Mismatched socks, mismatched socks,

Mishmashed, mashed potatoes…

And socks.

No tolerance.

No tolerance for mismatched socks.

No tolerance.


The afternoon of Dec. 19th, 2009

Some Change – Some Wisdom

“Can you spare any change for an old cadger like me?”

Sir, I have something here for you,
Something not right for my hands to hold.
Lo, this life of mine is none too different from yours, how bold!
By comparison my life for money has already been sold.

“The value of the dollar has shaken my will,
My passion to succeed and my intentions to fly!

The value of my life is the bill’s bottom-line!”

Here, where a penny is a diamond,
Only the devoted and keen survive.

I value your plight, old man, I value your determination,
It’s something found less in this modern day nation.

I want you to promise me something,
you will remember me fondly,
and thank me for your new life.
Remember my kindness and wisdom
And invaluable confidence in you.

“Yes, Sir, I promise! I promise my life on it.”

No! Don’t hastily promise such a thing,
Only love and death can ask such a price.
A quantity of one will always be your inventory.
There is no fair trade for a thing like your life,
Except money, so happily we sell ourselves away.

Don’t make the same mistake I did,
Some things in life are indeed charity,
And others are not, byproducts of insanity.
Your soul and your life, never sell to a soul,
For your soul, your passions will rid.

“I promise, kind Sir, I will inhibit!”

And you, kind Sir, are the best hope we have
To rekindle the heart of the American Spirit.

And with that, the wise man gave the cadger a bag.

He did not explain the contents or weight,

It jingled when shaken, spare change was the thought.

He opened the bag after the wise man had left him;

A golden glow grew from inside, his eyes showed signs of doubt.

The poor, wealthy soul had left to him a bag of gold coins.

Remember him, he’ll forever remember,

And the generosity of those who have lost more than their wallet.

Sitcom at the Office – Money

This is dedicated to Lapre, possibly one of the most frugal spenders I know.

Lapre – So, I just got an email from HR here.

Zucker – Yeah…?

Lapre – Yeah.

Zucker – And?

Lapre – It looks like I’ll be here… continually.

Zucker – What you mean? You didn’t get the job?

Lapre – No, I didn’t get the job.

Zucker – Aww, man I’m sorry.

Lapre – Yeah, yeah. Twelve dollars on dry cleaning… a waste.

Zucker – Hahaha, I’m sorry man, but that’s funny.

Lapre – Yeah, I’ll drink twelve dollars of scotch tonight to celebrate.

Elliot – Isn’t that over your tolerance?

Zucker – What, you mean alcohol tolerance?

Lapre – No, like money tolerance.