Monday, June 8, 2009

Are Your Boots Too Small?

I knew an old man who enjoyed telling stories from his life (well, what old man doesn't) and once when I proclaimed my dismay about receiving a pair of cowboy boots for Christmas one year (which I knew I'd never wear, in fact, they remain ensconced in their cardboard box to this day) he decided to launch into his own boots story...

Well, you see (said the old guy) we was at a site building a highway and there were a lot of trees to clear and because the weather had been awfully wet the ground was a muddy mess. I was getting mud all deep into my shoes ever time I tried to walk anywhere. I'd had some work shoes but a couple raccoons had stole 'em one night--god's truth they were taken by raccoons--and now I just had my regular dress shoes and nothing else. Trouble was there weren't no stores around where a fella could buy new shoes or even used ones.

Now, one day, as it was raining cats and dogs, I see an old horse-drawn peddler's wagon coming down the way. "Gets outta the way!" yells someone and everybody stared as the wagon pulled up. First thing I saw was a big pitcher of a boot painted on the side a the wagon. "Boots" it said underneath and then below that "Handmade and Cheap!" so I guessed the price would be low and affordable.

A man got down from the front of the wagon and looked me over. "You need some boots!" he yelled at me. He went to the back of his wagon and came back with a pair of brown boots that he said were just my size. I think he saw my doubtful expression 'cause he said "Last pair I got".

Well, it took every penny I had to satisfy the old guy that he was gettin' a fair exchange for his boots, but I had no choice, I needed them.

There was an old run-down saloon a few miles away, so that night I decided to test out my new footwear by putting on the boots and walking down there for a beer or two.

When I got inside the door I realized my goddamn feet were killing me. I sat down on a stool and ordered me a cold one.

Pretty soon a big guy looking like Paul Bunyan hisself walks in and takes the spot next to me. After downin' a whole pitcher (which he used as a glass) of beer, he notices my boots. "Nice boots" he says, "but you look mighty uncomfortable in 'em."

I says back, "I think they're too small, they're hurting my feet terrible".

He looked at my boots again. "I got just the solution. I use it whenever I need bigger boots and it works every time."

Well, I decided the fella's advice was worth trying, so after dark I snuck up to the mess wagon and stole a big bag of uncooked pinto beans and headed back to my tent. I took my boots off, rubbed my poor aching feet a little, then got to business.

I poured enough beans to fill each boot, though I left some room at the top like the lumberjack told me to, then went to get the water. When I was done I lay my head back on my pillow and went to sleep.

Next morning I was anxious to see if my boots would fit right after gettin' the bean treatment. I looked around where I left them and didn't see them at first. "Damn raccoons again!" I shouted. But then I saw what happened. My new boots was split completely on every seam, there weren't nothing at all left of them, and the bloated beans was everywhere.

An old farmer went out and bought a new pair of boots.

He got home and tried to get his old lady to notice them, but she didn't. So he went in the bedroom, took off all his clothes, and came out wearing only the new boots.

"Notice anything?", he asked.

"All I can see is a limp dick", she answered.

"Yes, but look at what its pointing at--my new boots", he said.

"Huh", she replied, "then you should have bought a new hat!"

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