I entered a house, desperate and hungry, looking for some food. I heard some footsteps outside.
The guy said "hey", and entered the house.
I said "hey" back.
He hit me with a hammer.
This was the beginning of a beautiful tale... the tale... of the Shoe Gang.
I ran out of the house and up the street as far and as fast as I could. I stopped and turned around to see if I was being followed by this crazy hammer man. I stood there, hungry and demoralised.
Then there was a voice... "Behind you, behind you"! Out of nowhere and in all his glory, another player... apparently much friendlier than my previous encounter.
I told him what had happened in town. He charged off... "Let's get this mother fucker".
Armed only with my ten fingers curled into balls, we ran at the Hammer Man, who after seeing our number had doubled, decided to take a more diplomatic approach.
He apologised for hitting me with his hammer, and explained he simply wanted my shoes for his friend. Little did he know that I had just found the most pristine pair of shoes in the house where we first met.
They were my shoes now.
Agreeing to put our differences aside, the three of us teamed up in search of the finest shoes for the Hammer Man’s friend. We searched high and we searched low, but there were no shoes to be found. Finally, we met up with the shoeless man, whose shoes certainly were in a state of disrepair. Unable to tolerate the toes of the bare footed any longer, the four of us left town and made our way across the countryside.
Sometime later, we encountered another survivor. He had a nice hat, but we weren't there for hats. He was clearly uncomfortable, and he was right to be, as the Hammer Man had been stashing a secret pistol this whole time. We were explaining our need for shoes when the Hammer Man went for the kill.
Unknown to the survivor, the gun went to the back of his head. Hammer Man pulled the trigger. He completely missed the shot. Listening to the Hammer Man’s accent he appeared to be French, which for me, an Englishman, explained his inability to handle a firearm at 3 centimetres.
The Hammer Man pulled out his primary hammer and bashed the survivor over the head. It was terrible to witness, and mentally scarring.
Utterly traumatised, the rest of us piled in with our fists. We were careful not to hit his shoes, but it turned out that he too was wearing worn footwear. However, it was enough, and our friend fitted the loafers over his aching toes.
The four of us marched on. The fields of Livonia seemed to stretch forever, and the rain began to fall. We found an old abandoned house, apparently half-shelled but yet still standing. One of the boys lit a fire in the fireplace.
It was beautiful.
We properly introduced ourselves. Bonds were formed. Shoes were discussed.
It was a moment cut short. My saviour in town announced that his shoes were now unfit for purpose, and so our thirst for shoes was far from satiated.
After much searching, my new friend had to go, leaving myself, the Hammer Man and his friend to fend for ourselves. We moved on... shoes won't wear themselves.
The rain gave way and we pushed on, the scent of leather driving us through the forests. The three remaining members of The Shoe Gang took part in some fishing. We sat round a fire and cooked, and we discussed our shoe filled fantasies.
We moved on and day began to turn into night. Darkness was our environment. Nature began to stir and the sound of wolves filled the air. It didn't take long. We were outnumbered. Our shoes were worn out, and they were upon us in the blink of an eye.
Hammer Man was the first to fall, flailing his gavel relentlessly as the beasts took him. I attacked the alpha wolf with a big stick which only seemed to anger him. Soon everything began to fade, the blood loss was traumatic and I slipped into darkness. Many hours had passed with my new friends, and my last memories were of them dying.
Darkness came. Silence followed. A loud ringing in my ears...
The wolves killed us all. I have no doubt that they took all of our shoes.
