Author – Sneaked666
Birthdays. Not a fan to be honest. It’s just a day, like any other, but ever so slightly more annoying. I hate being the centre of attention. I guess Birthdays at University were okay I suppose. University birthdays were an excuse to go out and get caned whatever night it was – not that we didn’t go out drinking most nights anyway. It always felt better on Sundays; the bar shut earlier so you had to start earlier or drink quicker. Not that’s really a good thing. It kinda felt like a good thing at the time though. Sorry.
So yeah, it was my birthday. We had started right after lectures, pausing to grab some food, before ploughing on again. I guess I might have been what was traditionally called ‘ratted’. Caned. Soused. Legless. Mullered. Yeah we got one more in just before the bar shut. Had to finish that in 20 minutes, plus the half pint I had left. Things always seem a good idea at the time right? Like the time when I accidentally…
Oh, what sneakers was I wearing? Guess you didn’t what to know about the time when I accidentally… No, well okay, it wasn’t a great story anyway. I was wearing my DC Character. Limited edition I might add. That might explain why I was still wearing them even though they were beat. And I mean really beat.
Well that and the fact I had no money. The beer? Yeah money for that, but the soles were still attached and the lining, well, the lining was pretty much in one piece. If I keep telling myself that I might believe it. The leather was really creased though, and the creases had become darkened from the mud and grime of everyday life. My jeans weren’t much better – faded and with lots of holes. I guess they would be ‘on point’ right now.
But I’m talking too much about myself. I should get to know you better; your hopes and desires. Oh, you just want to know about my sneakers? Okay, maybe I’ll get to know you better another time. That would be nice.
We started walking back to the dorms. We went the indirect route by which I mean we took the direct route but not in a straight line. We were laughing and giggling in the warm summer evening wearing just tees. The earlier shower shower had left a faint sheen of moisture on the grass that gave it an otherworldly look as it bounced the photons of the harsh sodium lighting around.
“What the fu..!”
Maybe I should have been paying more attention to my friends rather than the grass. Or maybe they had decided that as I was so interested they would give me a closer look, and as they bundled me to the ground, that’s exactly what I had.
A nice lie down was probably just what I needed, although it would have been more peaceful without my mates piling in on top of me. I can’t say I was massively upset even when they started tickling me. Hands touching me all over, faces brushing past mine in the confusion. Other things brushing past other things in the chaos.
It was then, gasping for breath under the joint attack of four pairs of hands, I felt my sneakers being slipped off. That’s when I started saying ‘no’ a lot; my feet are the most ticklish part of my body. Unbearably so. My friends soon found this out from the merest touch on my white socked foot; I bucked so hard I threw one of my friendly assailants off. He was dazed for a second before the friend attacking my foot said ‘hold him down’. Two of them pushed my down flat into the damp grass while a third sat on my arse, holding my legs in an arm lock, pointing my feet skywards.
I could feel the ringleader’s fingers hovering over my feet as the wetness from the grass started to make my jeans damp. The wait was unbearable. Almost as unbearable when he started, on both feet. I buckled, squealed and drooled during the prolonged attack. Yes, you could say it was undignified. Not my best look for sure. Sadly not my worst…
“Okay we’re done!”
As soon as it had started it had stopped. I slowly pulled myself up, the front of my baggy jeans darker and pulled down slightly revealing my Quiksilver cotton boxers. My grey tee was similarly damp, but I was more taken by the strange smell in the air. They were all stood in front of me, grinning and laughing.
“Come on guys, where’s me shoes?” I said pathetically, half expecting my friend to be playing piggy in the middle with them seeing as we seemed to have regressed to eight year olds, but they just stood there.
It was about then I realised that the tickling was a distraction as they stepped aside to let me see my DC sneakers. My DC sneakers being consumed by flames! I went to get up in a vain attempt to save them but was quickly pushed back down again. The tongue was well alight and the laces had long since melted away. The toe box started to char and slowly twist upwards and the large DC logo on the side started to melt.
“They should have gone a long time ago – we thought this was the only safe option!”
“Aww guys, they’re the only pair I have.” I mumbled, a bit sad my favourite (only) sneakers were gone and wondering how I was going to afford a new pair.
That somehow made the betrayal worse.
“Can we tell him now?” They all agreed and one of them pulled a box from his rucksack and opened it. It was a brand new pair of Etnies Callicuts!
“Happy birthday dude! You really needed some new shoes so we got you some!”
The think my grin was probably from ear to ear. “Aww, best friends ever!” I slurred.
“Let’s go back to my dorm – I’ve got some lousy spirits!”
“Cool, can I have my Etnies please?” I giggled
“When we get to mine!”
And with that he closed the box and ran off across the grass to his dorm. I got up, cursing him, which is precisely when the remaining three friends reached into one of the holes in my jeans and pulled hard. The sound of shredding denim filled the air and I was thrown off my feet in a heap. They ran off whooping and laughing as I pulled myself up, admiring the dangling ragged remains of my Southpoles. My (ex) jeans were officially a health hazard for moving safely so I quickly shucked them off, before racing after them, my white socks getting wet on the grass.
Back at his dorm we did indeed drink suspect spirits and yes, we regretted it the next afternoon. The purveyor of the bargain booze said I could have a pair of his jeans but I couldn’t have them until I left. So I sat there in my boxers and tee wearing my new Etnies. Sockless of course; they were hanging over the back of a chair.
It was starting to get light when we finished talking and as the other three left I went to collect my new jeans. When we got to his room we were both exhausted; he kicked off his Adidas Samba and laid down on his bed, giggling. I sat down next to him and we chatted some more. It was that easy chat; the sort that requires no thought or effort.
When we awoke the next day we were spooning, and rather than awkwardly pulling apart at this unexpected turn of events we stayed there together. At first not moving, just making sure we were both awake I suppose. Finally, he pulled my arm over him and I didn’t complain. My new Etnies ended up in his room a lot more over the last week of term and the following year. I know, funny how things turn out isn’t it? Then it was the end of university and we were forced to go our separate ways, back to our home towns on opposite sides of the Country.
I sometimes wonder if he engineered the whole thing; a situation to remove my inhibitions, to get me out of character and into his bed. Not that it really matters, I’m glad he did.
But I gotta go, that’s his car now. It’s been really nice meeting you, we must do this again sometime. Maybe you can tell me one of your stories next time? I’d like that a lot.