“Why does this all seem so familiar?” Scott wondered aloud. “Maybe it’s
just all the blood rushing to my head, but I’m having a total Zen
moment right now.”
With nothing to lose, he reached up and untied his shoelace. “Plop,” said Scott's shoe as his left foot, adorned with a not-very-fresh, once white but now a moldy sort of brown sock, parted company with it and followed the rest of his body hurtling down the stairs. “Shoes can’t talk!” he objected.
“Ya,” his sock concurred.He finally landed. Short of breath but otherwise unhurt, he took in his surroundings.
A long hallway. Lots of doors.“How original,” he muttered. From above, Barry’s melodic larking still afflicted his ears. Now he was doing the stuff from his Christmas album. Scott cringed. He must escape. With limited options, he tried
12/9/2007 4:15:36 PM
The Never Ending Quest Home
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