The Servants In The Closet
“Yer all a bunch of wimps and pansies!” cried out Old Sarge, a grizzled old Vietnam War era pair of combat boots. “Why, in my day, all of you 4-Fs would have washed out of the service!”
“Now, see here, Sarge,” Casual Loafers replied. “That’s a rather harsh statement, don’t you think? I mean, just because you have been hanging around here the longest of any of us in this closet doesn’t necessarily give you the right to lambaste us in that manner. We all have our jobs we do”
“Oh, blah, blah, blah, you wussie you! You don’t know what it’s like to go on forced marches, get up at 2:00 A.M. for guard duty, and defend your country the way I did! All you Casper Milquetoasts have to do is get up in the morning and go to a sit-down white collar job to earn yer keep! You all make me sick!”
“Wait a minute, old man,” Nike Sneakers chimed in. “I seem to recall being told by one of my predecessors that you were never actually sent to Vietnam, that you were stationed stateside during the entire war. And I don‘t get to go to a cushy desk job. I‘m a sports-type shoe, used for basketball and other contact sports!”
“Who told you them pack o’ lies, you basketball court sissy, you?” Old Sarge shot back. “Why, even if that were true, I am still a “Vietnam Era” veteran, you know, entitled to all rights and benefits those other Vietnam combat boots get. And I had to go through boot camp and all of that training regardless. That is more than I can say for you pack of sunflowers. What I did is a sight harder than running up and down courts and ball fields or lounging under an office desk all day. That’s for sure. That’s for dang sure!”
“Yeah,” Nike Sneakers continued, “but when is the last time you were actually needed? You have had the cushy life for at least thirty years now, just sitting in the back of the closet, all comfy-cozy, living the life of Riley back here. I don’t count retirement as a difficult activity.”
“I’m a little nervous,” Discount Sneakers said meekly. “From what I hear, they need new shoes to take over for good old Outside Lawn Care, the poor guy. I heard he has just about had it, the sorry old soul. I remember when he was a young lively sneaker like me before he got a few extra scuffs and nicks and his soul was a bit used up, both figuratively and literally speaking, if you know what I mean. I came into the household when he was in his prime, you know, before that dark day he was whisked away by the master and sold down the river to lawn maintenance. We all know how short your life expectancy can be once that happens with all the grass stains, paint drippings, mud, muck, dirt, rocks and all. I see him once in a blue moon when I get taken out to the porch, where he lives now. It‘s not a pretty sight. Even being donated to Goodwill or the Salvation Army is a better end than that!”
“I have nothing to fear,” retorted Casual Loafers. “As far as I know, never in the history of this house has a house shoe like me been sold down the river. It’s always sports shoes like you, who are used to the rough and tumble life, who are eventually put to work like that when you get old and worn out. I am so far above your station, you sneakers, that you would need binoculars to see my station.”
“No one is going to sell an expensive pair of shoes like me down the river, brother, you can count on that!” said Nike Sneakers. “That would be ludicrous. My price tag was about three times that of yours, Casual Loafers. Don’t tell me about stations. Going by sheer price tag alone, I am way above any station you are sitting at. And don’t get me started about how much more I cost than Buy-One-Get-One Sneakers over there. More likely, Discount Sneakers, who can only be considered my backup, will be the one sent down.”
“No way, Nike, I am still in pristine, nearly showroom, condition!” Discount Sneakers said quickly to Nike Sneakers. “I see you have a few fray marks on you, Nike boy, and a pit mark in your bottom. I wouldn’t be so sure of my safety if I were you, Mr. I-Cost-An-Arm-And-A-Leg-To-Buy!”
“If you ask me,” Old Sarge cut in, “I think the whole lot of you should be recycled for whatever material can be salvaged from your sorry hides and be done with it. You can’t compare to combat boots. Why, look at me, over forty years old now and still not a scuff mark on me. I have been spit-shined, lovingly polished, perfectly buffed and spiffed-up in so many ways you could use me for a full-length mirror, you could! No, you can’t beat the U.S. Government when it comes to apparel, I tell you. I’ll last into the next millennium, I’ll bet!”
“Well, who will be tagged to replace Outside Lawn Care, then?” Casual Loafers asked. “Formal Footwear over there is rarely ever used at all and would not be comfortable enough for the master to use for outside work. Formal Footwear would just kill the master’s feet! Old Sarge says that it won’t be him. Discount Sneakers says it won’t be him, as he is too young and in too good a condition. Nike Sneakers says it won’t be him, since he cost too much initially just to throw him to the wolves like that. I can‘t see master using either Rubber Flip-Flops, Soft Slippers, Cowboy Boots or Work Boots, either! All I can say is that it won’t be me, I can tell you that, as that has never happened before.”
“Don’t be too sure, Casual Loafers,” Old Sarge answered. “I have been in this closet for quite a while now and I could tell you stories that would make your tongues curl up faster than worms on a boiling hot sidewalk in Florida in August. I have in fact seen both formal shoes and casual shoes get sold down the river to be honest. It all depends, I guess, on how beat up the particular shoe is and if it would be viable to work a season or two out in the yard.”
“A shoe like me wouldn’t last a week out in the yard like that,” Casual Loafers cut in. “It would be inhumane to put me to work like that, not when the master and I have had some many good times, important times, together. Why, I was there when he purchased his new car, that spiffy new sports car he loves so much. I was there when his grandchildren were born, for gosh sakes! I have been at work with him when he has made million dollar decisions! Why would he waste such a valuable commodity such as me on backbreaking outdoor yard work?”
“Let me tell you, son,” Old Sarge replied. “It ain’t how expensive you once were or how many experiences, important or not, you have had with the master. It ain’t even what condition you are in right now that counts. It’s the master’s need. If he needs you to go work in the yard, however hard that may be on you and however short that would make your life, then, by golly, you just have to go. We shoes ain’t got no right to complain. Our lot in life is to get used by the master until we are all used up.”
“That’s a horrible way of looking at things, man!” chimed in Formal Footwear, who had been silent up until this point, as he usually didn’t associate with the other shoes, believing them to be well beneath him socially. “A shoe like me could never be expected to get his laces dirty doing something so beneath him as yard work. Why, I can’t count on my aglets the number of times I have actually been out of this closet. There was the winter formal dance at the country club one year, a wedding here or there, maybe a funeral or two, but that’s about it. He could probably return me to the store and get a full refund with the amount of wear and tear I have had!”
“That may be, you prissy old thing, you,” Old Sarge shot back, “but the fact remains that if you are needed, you go. Just like getting drafted in the old days. Why, I could tell you some tales about being in the service in the 60s by golly. A combat boot never knew where he was going to wind up. The jungles of Vietnam, the plains of Europe, the Rocky Mountains, you name it. The possibilities were endless! Endless!”
“The last time I saw Outside Lawn Care a few weeks ago,” Discount Sneakers broke in, “he told me that he didn’t think he could finish out the season. He had more holes in him than an O.J. Simpson alibi. He was so dirty, you wouldn’t even have been able to tell that he had once been white in color. His right heel had such a large gash that it was flapping faster and more frequently than Nancy Pelosi’s gums. I tell you, the trash bin is right around the corner for him. And he used to be an Adidas, Nike, so don’t go thinking you are safe because you are such a high-and-mighty brand name sneaker. We still have a month left to lawn care season, so if he dies before then, one of us will be on the block, I guarantee it.”
“Well, I can guarantee I am safe,” Rubber Flip-Flops added. “It wouldn’t make any sense for him to use me for outdoor work. Kind of defeats the purpose of keeping your feet safe from the elements by wearing flip-flops, don’t you think, boys?”
“I think I’m okay as well,” Work Boots added. “Who wants heavy clunkers like me on when they are doing yard work? You need something lightweight and fast, like those sneakers over there. Not an old plodder like me. Fact is, even though I am called Work Boots, master never used me for that type of work at all. He put me on to go to watch some football games, to go the flea market, things like that there, but I never actually did any work at all.”
“They both may have a point there, fellas,” Old Sarge replied. “I ain’t never seen anyone mow the lawn in flip-flops before. Why, one stone kicked up by those blades hitting a bare foot like that could cause a lot of damage. That’s for sure. That’s for dang sure. And Work Boots here, well, I certainly wouldn‘t want to be wearing a heavyweight like him when pushing around a lawn mower for an hour or so, even though it was a regulation in the service to wear special metal-tipped work boots when mowing!”
“And he won’t choose me, neither, pardners,” Old Cowboy Boots countered in his John Wayne-like voice. He had also held his tongues up until now, as he believed the conversation had nothing whatsoever to do with him and went by the John Wayne cowboy credo of minding one‘s own business. “Why, he ain’t even bothered to put me on since the 1980s. You pilgrims have more to worry about than I do. I think he used me to go ridin’ a few times and that one time in Nebrasky when he went to one of them line dances or square dances, I caint remember which it ‘twas. I think he keeps Old Sarge and me around just out of nostalgia m’self, as he ain’t about to lace up his combat boots or slip on his cowboy boots at his age.”
Just then, the closet door suddenly sprung open and Soft Slippers were tossed in by the master alongside the rest of the footwear.
“What’s the word from the outside world, Soft Slippers?” Casual Loafers asked. “Any more on the health of Outside Lawn Care?”
“Yeah,” Soft Slippers replied. “I just saw him earlier today when the master went out to the porch to pick up the morning paper. He doesn’t look too good. And I heard the master say that he was going to trash old Outside Lawn Care this week, as the whole bottom of Outside Lawn Care’s right shoe is coming off. The master actually wrapped it up with duct tape, his remedy for everything, it seems, but that didn’t hold as well as he had expected, so I judge he will make a choice of Outside Lawn Care’s replacement soon. The only consolation in this whole mess is that the outdoor season is nearly over, so whoever gets picked will only have to suffer for a month or so this year.”
“But what a month it will be,” Discount Sneakers said. “Who wants to end the year like that? And then you have to sleep out on the cold porch for the remainder of your life, not in comfort like the rest of us house shoes. I tell you, the fields are no place for any decent shoe. It’s a certain death sentence. I can’t remember any shoe lasting more than two or three seasons out there. A couple of seasons and then, boom, to the trash can with you!”
“If I had a vote,” Nike Sneakers said, “I’d choose Casual Loafers myself. You have had the most wear of any of us, except maybe me, but I cost much more than you, so I can’t see him sacrificing that much money when he can simply sell you out.”
“Maybe I have a few cuts and scuffs here and there,” Casual Loafers replied, “but those can all be covered up with a little polish here and there. He’s done it in the past, you know.”
Just then, the closet door opened again and tossed into the dark by the master was another pair of shoes, a new pair that had previously never been in the closet.
“Who in tarnation are you, pilgrim?” Cowboy Boots asked the newcomer.
The newcomer, still sporting the light cardboard tag from a local shoewear chain, answered timidly, as would be befitting the newest member of the group. “I’m Slightly Tan Casual Loafers. Just purchased today, in fact.”
“Uh, you said you are casual loafers?” Casual Loafers asked in a near whisper. “Why would the master need a second pair of casual loafers when he already has me?”
“Hoo, boy!” Cowboy Boots hollered out. “I think the handwriting is on the wall. I think we have a winner in the Sold-Down-The-River Contest! You’re right. Master doesn’t need two of you, so two guesses as to which one of you will be the next to be sent to the back yard, the brand new spanking new guy who has not one scratch on him, or the beat-up worn-out old timer with more dents and bumps on him than Willie Nelson’s guitar.”
“No, there’s probably been some kind of mistake,” Casual Loafers continued. “Maybe, I am supposed to break the new guy in, you know. He’s so new he doesn’t know the ropes yet, see? They need a smart old cookie like me to help train the neophyte in what he is expected to do. That has to be it.”
Slowly, cautiously, almost imperceptibly, all of the other shoes besides Casual Loafers began sidling away from Casual Loafers toward the rear of the closet, as though he had some type of contagious disease.
“Hey, fellas,” Casual Loafers cried out. “Where are you going? What’s the story here? Come on. You can’t believe I would be sold down the river, right? I mean, I’m a house shoe. I go to a white collar job. They wouldn’t send me to the back yard, would they?”
At that point, the closet door opened again and a pair of hands descended on Casual Loafers, lifting him out of the closet.
“Found them, honey!” the master cried out to his wife. “These old loafers will do the job as my outdoor work shoes now. I just threw those old Adidas out! I can probably get a year or two out of them before they wear out doing the yard work. By then, one of these pair of sneakers I have will be ready to take its place. Besides, I have those new casual loafers now I need to break in!”
THE END
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