DDR
“…and then fill it with peanut butter,” said the woman’s voice.
There came a reply from a second voice, deeper, and distorted by the ductwork it was traveling through.
“My shoes?” it said.
“No, you’re not listening,” said the woman again. “Not your shoes, just your left shoe.”
“Why just the left shoe?” said the other voice.
“Quickly now,” says the first voice.
The air kicks on and the voices are muffled beyond comprehension by the airflow. After a few minutes, it subsides.
“Ugh, what a mess,” says the second voice. “Are you sure this is going to work?”
“Of course I’m sure,” says the woman. “When have I ever led you astray?”
“There was the thing with the squirrels,” said the second voice.
“Okay, other than that,” said the woman.
“And the bees. And the fireworks. And that mishap at the candle factory. And that one time you took my credit card without asking and bought a bunch of scrap metal,” said the second voice.
“But I paid you right back,” said the woman.
“True,” said the second voice. “So what now?”
“First things first, let’s get your shoes back on and get to DDR,” said the woman.
“Is that part of the plan?” said the second voice. The faintest squelching sound–as if a foot were being withdrawn from deep mud–could be heard through the ductwork, along with the second voice groaning in disgust.
“No,” said the woman. “But it’s something to do in the meantime.”
At the Insanity Complex
100 Skate Park Dr