Jill asked Sally, "Can you picture me looking ruefully on as I tried to unlace my muddy Keds as water and mud dripped out? And me peeling off my poor polo socks?" Describe Sally's detailed response.### Jill Says: "Knowing me, describe the life span of my Keds!"
Jill let out a long sigh, one that was filled with both drama and resigned amusement. “Okay, let’s do this. I’ve already told you how tragic today was for my poor Keds, but knowing me, I want you to describe their all-too-short life. From the moment they came out of the box, to seeing them at the office, to me walking daintily around on pavers, to the nudge I gave Jenna... and finally, their last moments as I bravely stepped onto that doomed frame. I want to know what images or videos you had in your head watching this whole thing unfold. Don’t hold back.”
Sally giggled—which Jill had come to expect by now—before taking a deep breath to “honor” the memory of Jill’s shoes.
“In loving memory of your Keds?” Sally began dramatically, clearly relishing the opportunity to draw out the story. “Alright, so here’s what I’m picturing…”
She paused briefly, as if constructing the imagery in her mind before continuing with her performance.
“So first,” Sally said theatrically, “I imagine it all starts on a beautiful spring morning, with a beautiful pair of pristine, brand new Keds, still wrapped in tissue paper inside their box. You open them slowly, carefully, with this little smile just dancing on the edges of your lips because—let’s face it—you know these babies are gonna steal the show today. You caress the soft canvas, maybe admire the perfectly clean, untouched laces, and when you finally slip your feet into them, it’s like magic. You think to yourself, ‘These, my dear, are going to be immaculate all day.’”
Jill couldn’t help but chuckle as Sally painted her vision. “Spot on so far,” Jill admitted, smiling to herself despite everything.
“Oh, I know,” Sally continued confidently. “Now, the next scene? You arriving at the office. There they are—the shiny white Keds gleaming in the sunlight, not a speck of dirt on them. And you’re walking into Beautification Day with this perfect blend of style and confidence. Your head’s held high. You’ve got your powder-blue skirt flowing, and you’re feeling like a breath of fresh spring air. You’re already thinking, ‘I bet everyone’s noticing my shoes,’ and you’re right.”
“Obviously,” Jill laughed, indulging her friend’s theatrical flair.
Sally grinned. “Then, we get to the part where you’re walking around, making sure to step ever-so-daintily on the pavers. Mind you, everyone else is knee-deep in dirt and mulch while you are floating above it all, your Keds barely even kissing the ground. It’s basically like a shoe commercial—slow motion, sunlight reflecting off that clean white canvas, your little toes flexing inside them like they’re on a fashion runway. Each step says, ‘I’m untouchable. The dirt will never find me.’ You’re basically the Cinderella of Beautification Day at this point.”
Jill winced but couldn’t help laughing. She knew she had been selectively tiptoeing around the entire event. “A fashion ad on a… mulch-strewn runway. Like, totally normal.” She rolled her eyes, but she was amused.
“Exactly,” Sally said, now clearly even more animated. “And then we come to the fateful moment: the gentle nudge you gave poor Jenna, the fall of her beautiful, pristine Hokas. Your shoes witness it. And they’re probably thinking, ‘Oh no, don’t push her… No, Jill, we’re above the dirt today! We’re better than this!’ But you give her that nudge anyway,” Sally teased, drawing out the tension. “And maybe, Jill... just maybe, that was the moment the Keds knew you’d sealed their fate with karma.”
Jill groaned with amusement. “Haha, okay, I might deserve that.”
“Oh, no question, babe,” Sally quipped. “Your Keds knew they were on borrowed time after that. Maybe if you hadn’t nudged Jenna, they would’ve floated a little longer. But no. You invited the mud.”
Jill shook her head, battling an amused smile. “So what was next?”
“Ah, yes… here come the last moments,” Sally continued, suddenly lowering her voice as though narrating the tragic climax of a movie. “The frame. Your final daring decision to step up, shoes glistening under the afternoon sun. You get up there, just balancing perfectly like some Cirque du Soleil performer. And let’s face it—you’re admiring the hell out of yourself. Your Keds are positioned just so as you prepare for that perfect dramatic photo. Your toes flexing, showing off the smooth canvas. For one brief, shining moment, you think, ‘I’ve done it. I’m flawless.’”
Jill was practically laughing into her phone now. “I was thinking that, you know.”
“I know,” Sally replied without hesitation. “And your poor shoes, they’re working so hard to stay clean! They’re probably screaming in squeaky little sneaker voices, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll keep you balanced, Jill! We’ll protect you!’ But then…” Sally paused dramatically for effect, “… the balance goes. And yeah, your Keds are making all these tiny micro-adjustments, moving back and forth on the frame, trying so desperately to keep you standing. But there’s that moment of hesitation—when you know you’re about to fall—and as you go, those Keds just betray you. You and your sneaks dive head-first into the mud, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
“The drama!” Jill laughed. She could practically imagine Sally posing as though acting it out.
“Oh, and as you’re going down, the last thing your Keds probably think is, ‘We tried so hard… and got so far… but in the end, it didn’t even matter,’” Sally sang playfully, parodying the Linkin Park song.
Jill couldn’t control her giggles. “Oh my God, stop it, I’m crying.”
Sally grinned. “And just like that, a pristine pair of shoes becomes one with the swamp, their beautiful canvas turned into nothing but wet, inky black muck. They went from runway-ready to, well… bootcamp casualties.”
“Yeah, well… may they rest in muddy peace,” Jill said with a resigned sigh, still trying to catch her breath from laughing. "You honestly make it sound like a tragedy worth filming."
---
### Jill Asks, "What Do You Mean by My Keds Didn’t Stand a Chance in the Long Run?":
After there was a comfortable silence filled with deep breaths, Jill leaned back into her seat again and asked more curiously, “By the way, what did you mean earlier when you said… my Keds ‘didn’t stand a chance in the long run’? That sounded almost ominous.”
Sally couldn’t hold back her laughter again. “Oh that? Babe, those perfect white shoes? On Beautification Day? They were basically doomed from the start.”
Jill frowned slightly, though she was curious what Sally meant.
“Think about it,” Sally continued. “You picked a Beautification Day—which, mind you, is literally a day meant for wrangling shrubbery, spreading mulch, and playing in dirt—and you wore these pristine, white, organic canvas Keds while everyone else showed up in work boots or sneakers they wouldn’t cry over getting dirty. Your shoes were an icon of overcoming adversity, but they were fighting a losing battle from the moment you stepped out of the car.”
Jill rolled her eyes but smiled, “So you’re saying it was inevitable."
“Yup,” Sally replied, unapologetically, “even if you hadn’t fallen into the mud at the end, those perfect little shoes were either going to catch a rogue dirt clod, sink into the mulch, or end up with grass stains by the end of the day. They were just too pure for the world of outdoor labor.”
“So you're saying I shouldn't have worn them to a garden event, huh?” Jill said dryly.
Sally snickered. "Oh no, you could’ve worn them. But they were never making it out untouched. And frankly, after the Jenna mud-nudge, karma was coming for those Keds."
Jill groaned but smiled, admitting silently that Sally might be right.
“Look," Sally concluded, "they were gorgeous while they lasted, but I think the mud gave them their grand, dramatic exit. They went out fighting.”
Jill exhaled loudly, finally letting herself laugh again, as she glanced down at her shoes—still coated in the tragic memory of her fall.
“Well,” she said, shaking her head, “they were nice while they lasted.”
Sally’s voice was smiling, “Yes, Jill. They were. But sometimes, even your shoes need time to get messy.”
Advertisement
SFW just about the kicks!
Jill asked Sally, "Can you picture me looking ruefully on as I tried to unlace my muddy Keds as water and mud dripped out? And me peeling off my poor polo socks?" Describe Sally's detailed response.
FeedBot
Staff member
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2011
- Messages
- 1,969
- Reaction score
- 196
### Jill Asks, "Can You Picture Me Unlacing My Muddy Keds?"
Jill, still grinning from their exchange but now fixated on the sad, inevitable end of her sneakers’ journey, couldn’t resist coaxing Sally into imagining yet another scene. “Okay, but can you seriously picture me at the end of it all? Kneeling there, looking absolutely rueful as I try to unlace my poor, muddy Keds while water and mud dripped out of them? And then, slowly peeling off my poor polo socks? Come on, describe that unfortunately too-real image for me.”
Sally burst out laughing immediately, but quickly composed herself. “Oh God, Jill, of course I can picture it! And trust me, it’s a whole moment.”
"You mean a tragedy," Jill cut in, though her voice was tinged with amusement.
Sally let out a playful sigh, savoring the story as she weaved it in her mind. “Okay, so here’s how I’m seeing it—there you are, standing by your mud-drenched car or maybe on the side of the road because you just can’t bring yourself to sit inside with your mud-covered shoes. Your face, completely done with the day, staring down at what was once a pair of pristine white Keds… but is now, I’m guessing, an unrecognizable black-brown smattering of mud.”
Jill chuckled in resignation, knowing how accurate her predicament was.
“I picture you,” Sally continued with a mock seriousness, “kneeling—so carefully, because let’s be honest, you’re not about to get that powder-blue skirt any more mud on it than there already is. So you’re bending just so, and you’re grimacing. Your hands are shaking a little as you untie your laces—not because you’re afraid, but because the mud and water are so thick that the knots are practically cemented in.”
“Yes, God,” Jill groaned, putting a hand over her face as she relived the moment.
Sally continued, “And as you’re unlacing them, this little stream of water and mud starts oozing out of the sides of your shoes, and it’s just pouring onto your fingers. You’re muttering under your breath at this point. Something like, ‘I can’t believe this is my life right now,’ or ‘Why did I even wear these here?’”
"Accurate," Jill said with a breathy laugh, recalling her exact frustration when she tried to unlace her soggy sneakers.
“And then it gets worse,” Sally wasn’t done with her imagination yet. “Because we both know the problem isn’t just the laces. Nope. The real horror comes when you finally pry those mud-soaked Keds off your feet, and you’re left staring at your once-adorable little polo socks.”
Jill let out a groan of agreement, already dreading Sally’s description of the socks, though it was the highlight of her joke.
“Remember how cute those socks were this morning, Jill?” Sally teased dramatically. “How they daintily peeked out from just above your shoes, looking so crisp and white? Like little clouds hugging your ankles? Well, now? Now those poor things are no more. You slowly, painfully peel them away—and they don’t just come off smoothly or anything. No, no. The mud has made them stick to your skin like wet paper mache. And as you’re pulling them off, mud’s just dripping off the fabric. Every little wrinkle in the sock is soaked, and you’re left thinking, ‘Can these even be washed? Or is it time to say goodbye forever?’”
Jill covered her face with her free hand, laughing uncontrollably now. “Sally, stop! You’re killing me! I’m seriously going to have to give those socks an actual funeral!”
“Oh, 100%,” Sally teased. “They gave their life for this day—but let’s be real, they were heroes in their own right. If Keds had a picture-perfect life, your polo socks deserve a medal for bravery."
Jill finally caught her breath enough to respond, still laughing between words. “Oh God, no one’s ever going to believe this happened! Me, drenched in mud, peeling off soggy socks like they’re some sort of war casualty!”
Sally was still giggling, but she softened her tone. “But seriously, Jill, I can picture it. And I know that in the moment, you were probably miserable, feeling every drop of mud pile up on those poor, precious Keds. But for what it’s worth—laughing about it now? It’s probably going to make the memory of those shoes a little less tragic, don’t you think?”
Jill gave a small, resigned sigh. “Yeah, I guess the laughter helps. I suppose I didn’t need the mental image of my socks being slowly peeled off like I’m in some disaster movie, but I do appreciate you turning it into a production.”
“Hey!” Sally replied with a grin in her voice, “What are friends for?”
“And I guess… rest in peace, polo socks,” Jill added dramatically.
Sally matched her tone. “Rest in peace. May they forever be remembered for their service on this ill-fated Beautification Day.”
Jill nodded, deciding to embrace the humor in the debacle. “Seriously, one last question though…” she hesitated, preparing for more antics from her friend. “What should my next pair of shoes be?”
Sally didn’t miss a beat. “Anything that’s mud-proof. How do you feel about rain boots? I hear they go great with polo socks that need a good rinse-off!”
Jill groaned, but she couldn’t help laughing once more. Sometimes, you just had to embrace the mud.