The Shoe Tree
My dearest Yossarian,
I haven’t written in weeks and for that I am sorry, but I figured, why write if you don’t have anything to say? Hence my silence. But now I’m writing you.
Last week Purple and I decided that to celebrate the end of finals, we’d finally break open the Fifty Sack he’d brought up from
There was a dirt road about a mile down from Pisarik’s stables. We decided to check it out.
It’s about
We walked for maybe half an hour, forty five minutes, when suddenly the road turns and just stops. There’s nothing left but corn.
“uh… what now?”
Purp (being Purp) says “dude, get on my shoulders”.
So I climb up there and as I poke my head up above the cornstalks, I see this tree in the distance. It’s gigantic. It looks like an apple tree, or maybe pear, either way it definitely has fruit.
“Dude, we totally have to get high there”
“Man, it’s like instant munchies!”
“I know man”
We run and after several minutes, the corn parts and there it is. It must be a hundred and fifty feet tall! In the setting sun I can just barely make out what kind of fruit it is…
“man, it looks like bananas or something…”
“Dude, they’re shoes! There are like a hundred pairs of shoes in this tree!”
“Fuckin A man.”
I start to climb up and grab one.
“Man, hold it.”
And he hands me one of two 8-inch joints he’s prepared for the evening. He pulls out his football shaped lighter.
“L’Chaim, man”
“L’Chaim. To life”
Our joints crinkle as we toast, I take a hit and pull down a pair of bright white ice skates.
I cough “dude, there’s a note in here!”
He’s pulling from the joint, the end cherry red. “Well what’s it say?”
I pull a tightly rolled piece of paper from a skate.
So it’s come to this, has it? As I look around myself I can see there’s no turning back. This decision’s been quite a long time in the contemplating. Why the hell are you so stubborn? It’s really a moot point, but I can ask it again, can’t I?
By the time you read this, I’ll be long gone from here. Say goodbye to Caleb for me. And tell him something, make something up. I don’t want him thinking his father was a coward.
“The ink’s run after that”
“That’s all it is?”
I take a hit. This is heavy shit. “Why would someone put a suicide note in a pair of ice skates?”
“Dude, it’s not a suicide note. The guy’s just leaving.”
“Man, it’s totally a suicide note.”
“Don’t buy it for a second”
I unroll the note in front of him as he pulls from the joint.
“It says ‘I don’t want him thinking his father was a coward.’ Dude, this guy’s not coming back. He hung himself from this tree!”
Purp turns to me like I’m full of shit. “No he did not!”
“Yes he did man. Listen, it’s this dad whose gotten in trouble with the mob or something, he decides that rather than wait for them to come gully him or something-
“Gullying is what pirates do, not the mob”
“-fine, then concrete shoes or something. Anyways, he kills himself to save his wife and kid.”
“You’re full of shit”
“Listen man, maybe it’s the ‘baked goods’ talking, but I think that’s the story.”
“Dude… we’re the baked goods.”
“I’ll toast to that” We crinkle. “Pull another one down, see if any more have notes”
He jumps and misses the branch. He grunts as he hits the ground.
“I can’t reach it man”
“Well that’s cuz you’re a goddamn pussy”
“Fuck you, Pussy McPusserface”
“It take one to know one”
He jumps again, he grabs hold, but only with one hand, and you know Purp, he’s a big guy. The bark rips off and he falls back down.
“Shit man, I think I messed up a joint.”
“Looks alright to me, still lit.”
“No man, I mean my shoulder or something…”
“…oh, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” I take a hit.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He takes a hit
In shaking the branch he managed to knock down pair of old Adidas. He picks them up.
“Nother note”
“read it”
Dear Miguel,
Fuck off, you lying sack of shit. I hate you so much I’m going to shoot myself.
BLAM!
Lisa
“What the hell?”
He takes a hit. “What the fuck kind of a suicide note is that?” I say. He sucks the smoke back in after exhaling. I’m starting to feel a little baked by now. He’s making smoke rings like a goddamn expert.
“I’m telling you man, these aren’t suicide notes. That one was a vent.”
“a what?”
“A vent. People vent when they’re angry but they don’t actually do anything. That’s that.”
“Whatever. I’m getting another” I start to get up.
“Wait man, we have to toast first.”
“To what?”
“Um… To Miguel, the lying sack of shit”
“Cheers” We crinkle and pull. I cough a bit. My throat feels hot, like it’s getting smaller. I take a drink from my Nalgene. It’s apple juice. We always drink apple juice when we get high. It’s like ambrosia.
I start climbing.
“get one from up high, man”
“Why?” I shout down.
“They’ve been there longer”
“What makes you say that?
“String Theory”
“Bullshit”
“Yeah, whatever, just get one from up high”
“Purple! We’re both high!”
“Very true my Jewish amigo! Very defi-totally true.”
“Like… I’m in the tree… and you’re on the ground, but we’re both fucking high!”
“I am the monarch of the sea!”
“You and your goddamn HMS Pinafore”
“I’ll cover you with British Tar!”
I’m about halfway up by now. Climbing a tree while high is surprisingly difficult. I’m reaching out but these branches are so interesting. I spot a speckled moth, which is like the coolest thing on the planet, by the way, because it is a living thing that blends in with another living thing just to keep other living things from seeing it and eating it. It like totally trusts the tree with it’s life…
But I make it to the top as Purple’s singing “Hardly EVER!!! I’m hardly ever sick at SEEEEAA!”
“Man! Sketchers! Taste the rainbow!” I grasp my pair of shoes that I have climbed so high to find.
“That’s skittles, pooper!” He shouts up. He’s laying on the ground now, looking at his hands.
“My bad!” and as I am holding on to the shoes, the branch beneath me suddenly gives out and the only thing holding me up are the shoes. “Shit! I think I’m hanging here!”
“don’t hang yourself man, you have too much to live for!”
“No, I’m hanging by the shoes, I’m hanging by a thread. My branch broke!”
“Dude, Jump into my arms! I’ll catch you!” He’s on his back with his arms stretched out.
“I don’t think so, Purpetraitor. I think I might die.”
“You will not die.”
I swing. It’s my only hope I go back and forth and back and forth until I’m finally on a branch that I think may have been there all along, but was just feeling sneaky and crept up to save me at the last minute. I grab the shoes and swing down like the monkeys I’m descended from.
“got a note”
“read read read read read read read”
First I must make funny faces. So I do. For several minutes. Then I unfold the note and read loudly and clearly.
First of all, I want to say I’m sorry for showing up yesterday and I’m sorry for trusting your father for so many years. I thought he could help, but now I realize that the only one who can help me is me.
I know you want to know why, and I can’t really find the words to say. It just feels right. I’ve been living in a world of wrong and finally something feels right, so I’m gonna take that path and see where it takes me. I’m sorry I won’t get to see you again. I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. Don’t show this to your father, and don’t let him see me, please.
With all the love in the world,
-Mom
“Fuck.”
“Fuck is right. What a buzz killer.” He’s sitting up now.
“I mean… fuck.”
“I wonder if these all have notes in them”
“I think we should come back and investigate this further once we are in a state of mind that is less high and more sobriety”
“You mean when we’re sober”
“Yeahhhhh…”
He points his finger up. “I have an idea”
“What’s your idea?”
“We should come back with Yosie”
So, Yos, I’m formally inviting you to come back with us when you visit in two weeks to figure out the deal with this shoe tree. We’ve decided not to come to any conclusions until you have come to the scene and discussed it with us. I mean, honestly I know you’d totally want in on this. So write me back and we’ll check this out.
Hope all is well with you.
Word up, Dawg,
-Aaroneous
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