This holiday season I recall how once – mired in the self-absorbed petulance of youth – I complained about the quality of my new sneakers. Just then, I spotted a man in a wheelchair, the stubs of his lower legs jutting prominently from the rust-adorned contraption from which he could never escape.
“Excuse me, sir,” I asked. “Am I crazy or are these the sorriest shoes you ever laid eyes on?”
“My man,” he said, his caustic laughter causing me to blush, “those are some sorry ass shoes!”
BILL
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