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The Barleycorn of Doom

Here’s the story of mini-aquariums on my feet, a birthday, and a punch in the groin.

Is six months a long time to wait for a new pair of shoes? You see, I ordered them two weeks before Christmas and they came… last Thursday. I mean, sure, if this was the year 1400 and your nearest cobbler was some 100 miles away, meaning a new pair of shoes was a six-month horse ride away, then fine, I get it, six months isn’t that long, really. But in that situation, wouldn’t you just move closer to the cobblers or… perhaps, set up your own cobblers? Heck, even walking down the street shoeless would be a natty option, that said, my walk to work often involves stepping over broken bottles, a mountain of litter and the occasional piece of furniture nobody wants so they’ve left it in the street for others to take if they want. I mean, it’s usually a table with three legs but there was a sofa on the street the other day and it was only very slightly fire damaged…

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