Asta este, sau despre cum te pot omori niste pantofi

Moarte lenta, dureroasa, sangeroasa, cumplita si cruda. Arma lor suprema? Tocul! Pantofii sunt niste criminali tacuti, extrem de priceputi, care ma invita in fiecare dimineata sa-i incerc, impresionandu-ma, ca orice pradator, cu formele si liniile lor elegante, ca in final, sa ma omoare absolut la fel. Eu mereu ii cred inocenti, ei insa dovedindu-se a fi doar o sleahta de derbedei-vagabonzi-huligani-distrugatori-anarhisti, care imi dovedesc, de fiecare data, negresit, ca increderea ce le-o port e total nefondata. La inceput lucreaza fara sa-i simt, dar apoi, cand crima devine evidenta, e mult prea tarziu, caci sunt in plina strada, printre doamne, doamne care au in privire acelasi strigat de ajutor ca si mine, dar care tac aidoma pantofilor in care isi duc veacul. Nu inteleg de ce niciuna nu indrazneste sa-i abandoneze in mijloc de trotuar, jur.

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