What do we have here, Miss Fancy Paper Bag. Why all the bloody tissue?! Wait. Not bad. Not bad at all. Who would forget these here?
They are the kind I see on all those downtown fools waiting in line forever outside in the cold for that new so-called edgy shithole. Dressed in ripped designer jeans, heels…sometimes distressed boots like these. That dive will go under before the end of the year. Ever see an edgy place infested with rich kids? Exactly.
They can’t carry these babies. Click clack, click clack, clickety-clack. Clickety-clack as they swish, swish, swish like royalty by the rest of us peasants. You know who could carry these…a space cowboy…or a time-travelling pirate. And me. I can turn these artificially distressed leather boots into real boys. Let me try these babies on. They fit. Slightly too big, but they fit. Stomp, stomp, stomp. That’s right, no click clack for these boots.
Tissue, more tissue. Damn, I hate tissue. What do we have here? Oh, yeah. Only one or two bites. Looks fresh too. A meal and boots, boots, boots to stomp, stomp, stomp.