Part Two: The Sneaker fiasco

One early afternoon I was hanging out in our mutual lair, my tiny studio apt, typing away on my old-timey typewriter, received as a recent birthday present from my Aunt Sandy, creating a poem, an ode to darkness.

I heard the key turn in the lock, and the door slowly and forcefully opened. It would have burst open due to my brother's excitement, but that was physically impossible, since the entire lair was covered in what we called "the Mess".

We saw this Mess as an utterly dark and sentient monster, a living blob of darkness and chaos, animated and kept animated by our very neglect.

Kept alive of its own accord of course. This was no ordinary pile of trash, but something sentient, devious, and as unique as we were. Not a dead thing, but a living strange force, with its own ideas, wants, dreams and schemes.

This "Mess" covered every single inch of my studio floor. Even much higher than the floor in certain places. There was an ugly officially provided carpet underneath, but it was lost under the vastness and depth of the Mess, as were many other things under it.

The door usually has to be manhandled and forced open, to make the Mess withdraw, long enough for our entry and exit obviously. No one including myself could enter fast, without forcing the Mess back in retreat.

This Mess very much seemed alive to us both, aware, awake, and in complete utter control of our lair, except by direct force by myself or my brother Joseph. We were the only two to ever enter our dark and weird lair willingly, and so quite familiar with its tricks.

Yes, was this a case of our shared insanity? You decide as always. This day Joseph entered, pushing back the Mess, to open our door excitedly, and with force.

We both knew better by now, the Mess was something real, and certainly real to us, and integral to our lair. It was never my mess, but our mess, we both created it together. It seemed like a third occupant, and anything we would actually do, we'd have to take into account its presence at all times. As Joseph entered our small shared lair, his excitement was something palpable, something real to both of us obviously, and this wasn't something small nor petty. Everything mattered to us to some degree, and all things in our lives had their unique importance.

He seemed to me very excited, and his excitement became mine of course. Brotherly energy was somehow physically and maybe psychically contagious, what excited my brother Joseph would ultimately excite me. We were amazingly similar in this respect.

We often shared minds as we shared lives in many aspects. What befell Joseph, often befell myself as well. Our fates by this time were actually linked, whether we wished it or not, but oddly enough, we actually did wish it.

When our fates were linked.we were linked forever obviously. When Joseph entered our lair, and forced the Mess back to enter, I sat there watching, writing paused, wondering of his strange excitement. His exhilaration was on his face for me to see of course. Joseph had a damned good reason for his strange excitement and forceful entry obviously.

There was something he was eager to share with me right then. We shared pretty much everything, as blood brothers. His few failures were mine ultimately, and my small successes were his as well.

We shared plenty, food, thoughts, ideas, and many behaviors and traits, and the only major exception was sex. He had girlfriends, too damned many, somehow, which was something I would never understand, and never could obviously.

This was a knowledge and awareness we never shared, and never would. God I wanted to know about these things as he obviously did, these were Joseph's powers and abilities, which I never got obviously. Charming girls was his nature, but not mine.

My abilities and skills were very different from his, of course. We were brothers certainly, in every way but blood, but opposite sides of the same coin, as maybe it was designed to be.

Both Joseph and I had very different abilities, traits and powers, of course. My gifts weren't his, and mine his weren't his, and this would remain for both our lives. His short one, and sadly my long one.

We were brothers in almost every sense of the word, easily. When Joseph entered the Mess, he had a powerful reason, at least to his way of thinking. This seemed obvious by his initial energy. Something undeniable., and a damned good motivation to enter our lair and deal with the mess. At the time, I had a nice old school typewriter, and did everything in the old ways, it seemed the only proper way to write at the time.

No one else had a key to my small studio besides Joseph, so when the door forced back the Mess, I knew exactly who it would be. After the door was manhandled open far enough, he entered, and he shut it behind him.

Joseph was wearing our usual attire, a long London fog trench coat (stolen as usual), a black tie, white shirt, black dress pants, and sneakers underneath it all. He stepped carefully over the Mess, and sat right next to me at my keyboard.

"Johnny, look at my shoes", he said, pulling up the cuffs of his pants so I could get a good view.

I immediately noticed two things, his sneakers were brand spanking new, not a scuff or speck of dirt on them, like they just came off a factory floor, and that they were official Adidas, white high top sneakers, and were no doubt amazingly expensive.

Since Joseph was just like me, destitute as a damned church mouse, there was zero chance he had bought them himself. So I knew he was up to something, and wanted to tell me about it right now. "Johnny, I was just in the Main Place mall, and walked out with 'em on my feet, no one saw me, and they have pretty much no security. I walked into a quiet back room, grabbed a pair my size off the shelf, put 'em on fast, and left my old ones there in the box. You need to do the same. You won't get caught I promise!"

I knew Joseph stole things daily, from cigarettes to drinks and snacks, it was his normal routine. He was a literal master at getting away with pretty much anything he wanted to. So it seemed like it could work for me as well. It was an epic bad idea in the history of bad ideas, but it sounded good right then, so why the Hell not?

I looked again at his shoes, they would cost a minimum of 100 bucks, and possibly a lot more. If Joseph could do this so easy, I should be able to also, right? It was an easy sale. Joseph and I had another similar trait, we both wore our shoes until they literally disintegrated off our feet in tatters, or until we found a replacement before that for cheap (or often for free). We were both deathly poor, therefore cheap by necessity, not by choice. "Yes Joseph, it sounds easy, are you sure that it really was that simple?"

Rolling his eyes at me he replied "Yes Johnny, of course, it was like child's play, I was out of there in three minutes, and no one noticed. Trust me, you can do this easily". This was his way of reassuring me, and getting me to go along with him. Joseph was amazingly good at talking others into almost anything, including myself. He'd already won me over, and so I stood up, leaving my writing in the typewriter, and got myself dressed and ready to do my best possible thievery. Joseph would go with me to the mall, and stand in the main area and wait for me. Putting on my London fog trench coat (also heisted long ago), I turned to him sitting there. "Are you ready to go Johnny? Let's do this!"

I got to our door as Joseph put his own trench on. Forcing back the diabolical and chaotic Mess again, I slipped out, and Joseph followed.

We had a 15 minute walk through downtown Buffalo, which was only half packed right then in the middle of a weekday. Office workers shuffled around, retail workers smoked outside of their stores, and window gawkers lingered, with a sad longing for things they might never afford. So, business as usual downtown on a weekday. We got to the main place mall, with patrons steaming in and out the main glass doors.

Upon entering, though there were people going about their business, no one lingered, they all seemed to walk with a purpose, and as soon as they entered the doors of the mall, they were already boogying down the halls, long gone in seconds.

The small shoe store that was my destination was straight ahead of us, with a few people streaming out, arms bereft of packages. No sale I suppose. Joseph found a small wooden bench in the mall hallway next to a plastic plant, and pointed to the store. "Remember what I said, be fast,don't act suspicious, and try not to be watched, go to the quiet back room, and switch shoes quickly. Then walk straight out fast, easy!" Joseph was so enthusiastic, his optimism was kinda contagious right then, and I just knew success was in my immediate future obviously.

Entering, I looked around, a few customers milled around, looking mindlessly at various shoes, and there was one employee at the cash register doing a transaction. The place was amazingly bright, clean, and smelled of rubber and leather, fairly good and positive smells. The young male employee helping others looked around at me, and asked "can I help you?" Though since he was helping others, I wondered if he'd drop them rudely, to come over and help me should i ask? "Nope, just looking" was my generic response of course.

If God helps those who help themselves, I fully intended to do exactly that. If I could. I went down the lone mens sneaker aisle, looking for the perfect high top sneaker for my needs. I was quite particular about my size and style, as I've always been. I saw a black high top sneaker, Nike brand, in size 10 ½ , my perfect size, price tag, 150$. Very classy to me right then, and so far out of my price range it was laughable, since I had literally nothing to my name besides guile. Grabbing the box, hopefully unseen, I boogied towards the back room, my expensive heist in hand. As my brother claimed, the backroom door was slightly ajar, and the way seemed almost criminally open, so I used it as such. I went in fast, and the room was thankfully empty of employees, so I did as my brother suggested. I was quick, and did my best, as always, but luck seemed to have a personal grudge for me as per usual.

I sat on a plastic stool, and kicked off my shoes like old discarded skins, and whipped out the new ones from their white box. As with all new footwear in a box, the laces were weirdly secured together, and both shoes were full of crumpled useless paper (what a waste for the poor trees of the world no?). The longer this would take, the higher the risk, so speed was paramount to my success. I threw out the papers to the floor, and frantically undid the laces, panic slowly setting in at their seemingly purposefully laced complications.

This was taking far longer than it should. After two minutes that felt like two hours, I got them untangled, and slipped my feet inside, still in a panic. Hands shaking, I tied the damnable laces as basically as I could get away with. Not practical, but fast, as needed.

Standing up, satisfied and fearful, I went straight for the doorway out. My mistake, timing is everything, and usually determines success or failure.

As I was about to exit,opening the door into the store was a large employee right in front of me. "What the Hell are you doing in here?" He immediately saw the box, the discarded paper stuffing, and my old dead shoes. I tried passing him, and he grabbed my arm, also looking down at my newly and fabulously ensconced feet, and he knew what I'd done right there in that instant. So what are you trying to do? Take them?" I responded in a panic, "no sir I was just trying them on" "In the backroom? I don't think so PAL". Large hand still on my arm, he pulled me to the register, while a few other customers watched, to my utter dismay. "Hey boss, call mall security right NOW!"

While I stood there being watched by literally everyone, in my embarrassment, I could see Joseph out in the mall hallway, shaking his head at me. I saw he was disappointed, which hurt me far more than the act of being caught. I sought the approval of no one, besides my brother in arms, Joseph. He had got away, and was wearing the very shoes he'd done it with, so why couldn't I? As I learned in my early years, we had very different gifts, and this failure on my part was a perfect example. Caught like a rat in a trap, I stood there, though I should have run. At that time I was far milder, less bold, and so I stood there, awaiting judgment, employees on both sides. In a few minutes, which seemed a personal eternity, mall security arrived.

The situation was explained to them, and they wrote me a ban from the mall for one full year, which I accepted happily, since the actual police weren't called, and jail wasn't a possibility. The longest moment was putting my old shoes back on like a wounded cowed dog in front of God, the Devil, and all involved. I've never been so degraded before that time, and never since. Though I was grateful I could walk out of there, versus being dragged out and toted away by the cops. A small consolation, but a happier one certainly.

I left the mall through the same door I came in, with a different attitude, and Joseph wasn't there. My planned and easy heist had failed, spectacularly. I realized right then I'd never possess the sneaky talents my brother Joseph had, both for acquiring items for free, as well as his handy gift of gab, to talk his way out of trouble like child's play. Maybe he could be a future politician, or lawyer, but I never could.

Walking back to my lair, I felt shame. Not at any broken rule or law of society around me, but at my utter failure to accomplish something that should have been simple, easy, and took little effort. Morality has never been part of my deeds or calculations. My brother Joseph shared this particular insight and way of thinking but he was far more successful at the actual implementation than I ever would be.

Arriving at my place, walking down the hallway, I saw a lone sock outside of my door. The Mess was looking to expand, if it could obviously, to infect the building, then the world possibly. I turned my key in the door, pushed back the Mess, and kicked the sock inside. No escapees today, not on my watch! Joseph was sitting there on a high stool looking out our window, As I looked at him, he turned back to look at me. "How did you screw that up?"

"I don't know Joe, went as fast as I could, bad timing I guess" I responded shrugging.

"Ah well, wasn't meant to be I guess. I just took a sleeping pill from my moms cabinet. I wanna sleep for a long time. If I fall asleep don't wake me Johnny, let's see if it works". I nodded, my failure still heavy on my mind. Joseph turned back towards the window, and since I lived on the 15th floor, the view of downtown Buffalo was inspiring. I made some coffee for myself, and returned to my typing, watching my brother out of the side of my eye.

Even back then, I was watchful for him and his well-being, like an immoral and dark guardian angel. I'd protect Joseph with my life if needed, and I think he would do it for me as well. I typed away, clicking here and there, and it must have been a soothing sound to him right then. He leaned forward against the window, an indication of the sleeping pill's strong effect. At the time I'd never had one before, and while writing I was careful to watch and remember. 30 minutes after my brother had taken it, he fell over, the stool tipped, and Joseph fell over into a very soft and strangely sentient Mess. The fall and landing didn't wake him, powerful medicine indeed.

I wished I could sleep as easily and deeply as him right then. I never did, except once, but that's another crazy story. Right then, as my brother fell back into the soft loving insane embrace of our living Mess, I realized the strength of what he took. Joseph and I, we were powers in the world, but in very different ways, so it had to be a strong pill to affect him. I walked over, and saw him sleeping deep, and my envy was there, but he was the only being I cared for. Embraced by the Mess, he was sadly vulnerable, but being his protector, I found a light blanket, and covered him the best I could, and went back to typing my stories, weirdly complete somehow. Maybe this is what life is really about? Caring for those that truly matter to us, and making sure they are well? Perhaps this is our happiness?