What's more he was wearing wizard pajamas

What's more he was wearing wizard pajamas and touting red rope licorice in both hands. Clearly this was not the man we were meant to visit tonight. Nevermind that the pjs were
Ragged and torn. He looked like he had just crawled out of a dumpster, yet he seemed like there was something special about him. He looked over and saw us.
At first glance, his instincts kicked in, and he prepared to defend himself, but we meant no harm. We were there to help.
My associate wedged his way inside, gun to the head of the cowering homeowner. "You must've heard many sales pitches, Sir, but I assure you OUR shoe polish is not only 16% shinier
but also makes your shoes last longer!" My associate wiped sweat nervously across his forehead, gesturing clumsily at me with gun. I couldn't help but flinch. "Tell them, Harry!"
my associate yells in frustration. I quickly tie my shoes—double knotted, even. I didn’t want to risk death by being shot because I didn’t tie my shoes beforehand. Harry glares.
He fixated on my double knots with disdain, and a small amount of envy. "Can you... would it be OK if you knotted my laces like that too?" He asked, eyes downcast. I paused, then
pictured me tying his shoes in my mind. I saw the fanfare & the hoopla. Then I saw the aftermath. The teasing. Everybody asking me to tie their shoes. "No, but I'll teach you how."
And that is how I got into the loafer business, my son. No shoelaces, no worries. Just a penny in the slot and some buffing with a soft cloth and you're good to go. My loafer shop
was a front for all my underworld activities: drugs, guns, booze, sex slaves, you name ii, and none of it exists if not for the penny loafer. Penny loafers are my life and passion

Started: 2018-05-27 01:58:05
Finished: 2019-02-17 17:00:35

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