Roving Shoe Salesman

Me and another fellow got hired on as traveling shoe salesmen. The job didn’t pay well, nor was I very good at it. My contention was that carrying five pairs of shoes as examples of the sum total of a product line available, that were only big enough to fit a two-year old, was the primary cause for my failure.

The two of us new salesmen brought our concerns to the owner of the company, who also owned a mercantile store in addition to providing the door-to-door sales service. He was unimpressed with our complaints and fired us on the spot.

“To hell with it!” I said, and without collecting my pay, left. On the way out the door a sinister idea crept into my mind. Since the old fart was really robbing me by firing me, I decided I would get back at him and good. I would steal some things from his store in restitution/retribution. But the owner spotted me shoplifting and took after me: the roving shoe salesmen turned outlaw. I bolted for the door. Looking back I saw that I could easily outdistance him and laughed. But for some reason, my fellow salesman had a change of heart. He had turned himself in and became my chief pursuer!

I ran through town, the other guy hot on my tail. He was fast and kept up quite well. This surprised me because I was in such good shape. I tried to lose him downtown. But oddly, I felt compelled to stop and window-shop as I dashed past streetcars and all sorts of quaint, interesting looking shops. It reminded me of San Francisco.

I eventually ended up near a high school. Spotting a flagpole, I shimmied up it. Then, by sliding across and down a guy wire, I got to another pole. But this time it looked like there was no escape. I knew it was only a short time before the turncoat shoe salesman would catch me!

Running on adrenalin, I leapt to the ground and sprinted back toward the school, where I found a drainpipe and scrambled up it like a monkey to the roof. I ran across the roof until I came to a door. I tried the knob. To my amazement it was unlocked. I jerked it open and slipped inside, quickly locking it behind me. Safe at last!

From there, I crept quietly down a flight of stairs to the main floor. It was dark, vacant and eerie. I could almost hear the voices of past students, dead and gone, ghosts of days bygone . My footsteps clicked on the smooth, worn tiles and echoed hollowly down the deserted hallway. A few lights coming through the darkened windows reflected on the polished floor. Suddenly, my peripheral vision caught a slight movement up ahead of me. I stopped and stared. It was a German shepherd. Evidently a guard dog roamed the hallways at night to protect school property. Great, just my luck!

The dog saw me. He turned immediately, and with head held low, began striding toward me, a menacing look on his masked face. I glanced around for some means of escape, or a weapon. There was nothing but the hallway lined with student lockers. The sound of car tires on the pavement outside in the street distracted me for an instant. Should I run for the doors? I knew I would never make it. The guard dog would surely catch me and drag me down like a wolf taking down a deer.

I spotted a locker without a lock on it and dashed over to it, pulled it open and jumped inside. It was pitch black. I felt around to see what was inside then stood stalk still trying not to make a sound. I could hear a ‘click, click, click’ sound getting louder with every beat of my heart. I realized it was the German shepherd’s toenails on the hard tile floor as it padded up to the locker door. The dog stopped and sniffed through the door, only inches away from my groin. I held my breath. I could almost feel his teeth sinking into the soft flesh. Of course it knew I was there; but it couldn’t open the door. Could it? No way. I decided I was totally safe, and I went back to feeling around inside the locker.

I found a sock full of marbles hanging from a steel peg. That’s strange, I thought, but aha! a weapon, simple but effective. There were posters taped on the inside of the locker, too; but of course, I couldn’t see what the pictures were. There were a few books on the top shelf and what I guessed was some trash on the bottom. There was also something soft on the top shelf. I pulled it down: not without some difficulty because of the awkward angle. It was almost impossible to straighten my elbow. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in cellophane and crinkled when I squeezed it. I smelled it. It smelled sweet. Food? I punched a hole in the wrapper and stuck my finger inside feeling something squishy. I smelled it again. Twinkies? I stuck my finger in my mouth. It was sweet! Yes, Twinkies! What luck! How could I be so lucky? I immediately began munching away, reveling in the artificial vanilla flavor. Junk food never tasted so good.

Then an idea struck me. I wondered if I could befriend the dog if I shared the snack with it. I began talking softly to it. It had lain down just outside the door, apparently waiting to kill me by biting my throat the moment I opend the door. I could just see the blood spraying all over the inside of the locker when its sharp teeth ruptured my carotid artery.

I talked and coaxed for an hour, hoping the vicious canine would relax and begin to feel comfortable with me. It might just hesitate long enough to let me make it to the doors and escape.

When I finally got my courage up, I unlatched the door, opened it just a crack and peeked out. The dog sat up. Its ears perked up. I tossed a small piece of Twinkie out to it. It sniffed it and nudged it with its nose. Then picked it up between its tongue and front teeth and gobbled it down. I repeated this process several more times until I began to feel that we were developing a relationship of sorts.

I finally opened the door all the way, watching his reaction, ready to slam it shut the instant it made an aggressive move toward me. But the dog just sat patiently waiting for another handout, which I obliged. Slowly and as benignly as possible, I stepped out and handed the dog another bite. I realized then that I had him literally eating out of my hand. So I stepped out and sat down beside him, all the while speaking gently.

I bent to look at his belly to check his sex. He was indeed a male. I continued handing him bites of Twinkie. When it was all gone, I told him so, and showed him my empty hands. He cocked his head sideways and perked his ears forward. I tried to act nonchalant. He seemed to understand and plopped his muzzle down on his forepaws and sighed deeply. I thought, ‘what a baby.’ I scooted closer and eventually lay my head down on his flank and nodded off. He squirmed a little to get comfortable and fell asleep beside me.

We spent the rest of the weekend in the school exploring, or sleeping when I got tired. Monday morning came and with it the students. I tried to act as if I belonged there. The students didn’t seem to notice. One particular kid came down the hallway looking upset. I asked him what was the matter. He’d lost his textbook and was afraid he was going to get in trouble. I helped him search for it. We found it in another locker. He skipped off for class in high spirits. I watched him round the corner and then disappear behind a classroom door. I smiled and rubbed my hands together as if I had just completed a job well done. Then I walked down the hallway and out the front doors on my way out of the school.