Gather around children, and I'll tell you a story.
A long time ago, back when I was in high school, I was dating the girl of my dreams. Yeah, mushy mushy. Anyway, just before Christmas, we met this guy named Darren.
Darren was kind of weird. He seemed to end every sentence with the word 'man'. "Let's go have a smoke, man!" or "I like my hair, man!" On the way home on the bus, he took down both me and my girlfriend's phone numbers and said he was gonna invite us over to groove to some Pink Floyd, man!
I fucking don't like Pink Floyd.
Over the Christmas break, he called my girlfriend numerous times. He called me zero times. I knew what was going on - he was after my woman! That's a no-no.
Here's another picture of the guy:
I'm flying man! Wheeeeeeee!!!!
Darren lived in a one-room shithole with a toilet that EVERYBODY in the building had to share. He loves Pink Floyd, likes to drink, loves to smoke, does miscellaneous drugs, makes toast by putting bread on a coat hanger and holding it over an oven element, and uses a piece of telephone wire for a belt. He also claims to look exactly like Jim Morrison. In my opinion, he looks more like a horse who lost a fight with nitro glycerine.
He also has a big brown stain on his teeth from smoking too much hash (or eating too much shit):
Darren was also a poet. Here's a piece of Darren's work which was written on one of his sexy pictures:
Anyway, when my girlfriend told him that we were engaged, he professed his love to her. "But, I love you, man!" Of course, my fiance gave him the "we're just friends" line. Poor Darren. He hated my guts.
How He Got The Name "Shoes"
One day, Darren was obsessed with getting himself a nickname. Of course, they were mostly Pink Floyd themed names. "How about 'Bricks'?... Naah, too heavy man. How about D.D. The P.F. Man?... Naaah, too long, man."
Anyway, I was telling my friends the story about Darren's adventure in choosing a nickname. Just for fun, I threw in something totally absurd. "How about 'SHOES'? Naah, too much sole, man."
....and we laughed... and laughed... and the name stuck. 'Shoes' it was!
After me and my fiance moved into our own place, Shoes got back in contact with her. He continued to tell her how much he loved her. I was getting fed up with Shoes. It was time for me to put an end to this nonsense.
While my fiance was at work, I called Shoes. When he answered, I hung up. I relied on Caller ID to inform him that it was the girl of his dreams calling him, and maybe she had come to her senses and discovered she really DID love him! When he called back, not me, nor any human answered the phone. I had set up my PC to answer every call that came in. So when he called, all he heard was a squealing noise, much like a fax machine. He called, and called, and called, and I laughed, and laughed, and laughed!
After about two hours of him repeatedly phoning, I figured enough was enough. The guy couldn't get a clue if it was written into a Pink Floyd song. So I answered. Through the magic of an old answering machine I hacked, the call was recorded:
He never called back.