Breeaunna's Sneaker Pt.1

I sit, waiting in the early morning time, still airing out from the previous day, her sweat hardening to my insole and her cheesy stench ingraining itself into me...permanently. I don’t know what the exact time is, but it’s still dark out and birds are chirping. I am a shoe, specifically a shoe belonging to a girl named Breeaunna. I’m a Converse sneaker and, although I look like trash, I still remember the day I came fresh out of the factory. I still remember a time before I met this vile, disgusting girl with nasty gross feet that rarely see socks (and when she does they’re usually her smelly unwashed gym socks). But alas, that was all just a brief memory, as I have been with Breeaunna for the past 5 years now. She wears other shoes yes, and I pity them as well for the torment they are put through as well as mine, but I am the pair worn most often, and I’m starting to rot from sweat and abuse. There is nothing I can do however, except wait for the day when I fall apart completely, which may not be for another few years. I shudder to think of accumulating more foot funk than I already have.

A loud thud interrupts my thinking…*BUMP*...and I see a pair of nasty, grimy feet hovering over me, practically fuming with cheesy stink, her toes thick with jam, her soles, glistening with sweat.

“When was the last time she washed her feet?” I thought to myself as she started to stand up.

“No no no!” I thought as her bare foot planted right on top of me, giving me a huge taste of salty sweaty grime and a bigger whiff of her cheesy feet.

She looked down at me and smiled, picking me up and taking a whiff, ”whew another few years and these might start to smell BAD!” she exclaimed, setting me back down.

She lifted her foot up to her nose…*sniff sniff*...”Eh not too bad, maybe a couple more days.” she said as she placed her foot back down on top of me, pinning me down under an acrid cheesy stench that would make me vomit if I could.

She walked off to go get ready for school, leaving me some time to recover from that traumatic experience...knowing full well that my day was about to be a living of hell of her sweaty, cheesy, grimy, nasty feet. I watched her get ready for school. She pulled on a pair of jeans that were a little short for her. She rifled through her dirty clothes hamper, pulled out a shirt with damp put stains, and held it to her nose…*sniff sniff*...then raised her armpits up…*sniff sniff*...

”Yeesh! That reeks!” she said as she put the shirt on, ”not like anyone will be smelling my pits though.”

”Yeah if they’re lucky.” I thought.

Then she walked over towards me and I started to get nervous, knowing what was to come.

”Please please please, at least wear socks! Don’t let my insoles come into contact with those disgusting feet!” alas, my pleas were met in vain as she sat in her bed and slipped me on her bare foot.

Within an instant, I was assaulted with a toxic cheesy stink that intensified the aroma already inside of me. She wiggled her grubby toes and I felt nauseous at the feeling of her toe jam and grime all over me, ingraining itself into the mound of fungus in my insole. She stood up and started walking, each stop giving me a huge wave of foot stench. I heard her front door open and close, and knew that this was just the beginning.