These accursed moon shoes! I swear, these shoes simply must be from the moon, made for the moon-folk that live there. It’s the only possible way they’d fit anyone’s feet.
I keep thinking of my wizard brothers, working in jobs where they can wear whatever shoes they like, like Fizzibottom in the luxurious hamburger creation parlour. But no. I, the great and powerful superior, wanted a career.
Now I have to get up every single weekday, cram myself onto a bus and wear horrible pointed moon shoes while I have meetings and shuffle through papers. I used to fling lightning for a living! LIGHTNING!
Such depravity, depravity indeed! The only plus is that my workplace is sending me to a foot specialist open in Cheltenham, because I’m quite important and they give me more or less whatever I like. I still haven’t figured out what this ‘private healthcare’ thing is, but I get it for free as part of my contract. I also get a ‘company car’, but on the very first day I transformed it into a flying pumpkin-dragon hybrid; a much more sensible means of transportation.
That, of course, is how I’ll be getting to this podiatry specialist…person. Susan at the front desk implied that they are healers of the feet, which gives me some hope that they might craft for me, in secret, a master shoe. A shoe with a horrible moon-person appearance, but is inside as plush and cosy as footwear made from the rare and huggable fur-pelted wyvern. Once, I have tried footwear as comfortable as this, when I snuck into the tent of Vermillion-Mugwump the Spry. Since his transfer from the summer cloud palace he’d been bragging about his father sending him important gifts, so I may have laced all of his clothing with worms. And tried on all of his finery, boots included.
Anyway, he was eaten alive, slowly, over the course of many months, in constant agony. Serves him right for bragging.
At this point, I’d settle for some sort of, oh, arch support insoles of a kind. I need some arch supports for my insoles, at the very least. No one understands the agony of these silly shoes.
Well except Vermillion-Mugwump, oh-ho-ho!
-Bragwurst Von Schmemlock