Purple Shoes

*The following short story is a work of fiction. The characters, organisations, brands, and events portrayed are fictional. Any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. This material does not reflect the author's opinions. It may depict highly unsuitable topics and language for sensitive demographics and should not be read by minors.

My mother had a meditation instructor who was a vegan. Leon Villa was a teacher of… Well I never knew exactly what he did for a living but from what I recall he was a guru of yoga, nutrition, holistic lifestyle, mental health, vegetarian burgers entrepreneur, life advice, and probably more. In other words, he sell smoke; at least that is what I thought when I heard his marriage had fell apart.

But before that happened I was deceived by his sharp confidence. My mother had paid him to come at the house and have a chat with me about conquering women. It was a real eye-opener since I all my attempts to ask Alina Annie out had failed miserably. He sat down with me.

“Approaching women is very easy. What’s your problem?” He howled, in a rush—to bang my mother (I hope not).

“Well, I think I get overly nervous just to the thought of standing within a meter of Alina Annie.” I confessed.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I simply freeze. What should I tell her? What if she thinks I am awkward?”

“What if she thinks you are awkward?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yes. Nothing.”

For this life advice coaches it is all too easy—except a successful marriage.

“The negative response, that is, the worst that could happen, you are already experiencing.”

“How so?”

“If you don’t ask her out, she will never go out with you. Like in your current state, thus you have nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain if she accepts the invitation.”

My sixteen year old self was profoundly enlightened at such obvious advice.

“You are going to do this, and, by the end of the week you must have had spoken to at least three different girls.” Leon—the fucker—Villa, was already giving me homework.

“What? No. How on Earth I am going to achieve such thing?”

“Easy. Tell them anything.”

“Anything? Oh, gee!”

“Yes, for example, approach them and tell her those are some awfully nice purple shoes…” Leon’s response left me perplexed. “You can do that. Even if she is not wearing purple shoes, because she will look down and find the situation funny, and then you grin confidently and simply walk away, she will be left intrigued about you. Thinking who was that?”

The key to life suddenly unfolded before my eyes in the sound of the words of a forty year old freelancer.

The next day, I embraced myself to approach Alina Annie and tell her about her nice set of knockers, I mean, sneakers. I walked down the lengthy halls of the Positive Thinking High School and went straight to the Cafeteria. There was she, radiant and stunning as always, with a skin so milky, silky, and acne free—unlike me. I gasped for air and courageously stood in front of her. She made a silly face before I spurt out the following words.

“Hey, those are some awfully nice purple shoes.”

As soon as I said that I felt regret for listening the advice of life coach who was supposedly good at every aspect of life. But Alina Annie glanced down at her sneakers and gave me a look I will never forget. In that moment I knew I had accomplished something I never had done before.

The next day, Leon calls me about a business opportunity. Me! A sixteen year old spineless boy! I thought I was finally entering the adult world, soon I would be sliding panties down and giving the pussycats money to get their nails done. He inquired me if he could come by to discuss the name of our future business. We brainstormed but he just mumbled one or two words, I was the genius who came up with the name Conscious Living and his cat-eyes shone, when he smiled I realized the familiarity of his tusks with a feline’s. We set up for the park with my camera and tripod. We were going to shoot a video about the logical explanations for insomnia such as having posters on your bedroom, eating too much watermelon, or wearing old socks. It all seem very clear to me back then. A week later, after I sent him the sixth draft of the video because Leon wouldn’t settle for less. I thought it was very strange that Alina Annie had not attended high school the entire week. It all seemed suspicious and eerie. After a rich conversation about economy with my father—who is now bankrupt—I phoned Leon and valiantly told him that if he wants me to do the job of an editor he must pay me at least two hundred dollars each month, he said that was fine.

The next morning I checked my phone and noticed that his chat had no photo and he was not longer receiving my calls. Sat in my classroom, we were informed that Alina Annie had killed herself due to a an unresolvable riddle. Some cunt had tormented her with a horrible pick up line about some purple shoes. The whole high school did a memorial parade in her name. And that was the last time I saw Alina Annie in my life.

Special thanks to Nay Cabrales for posing and helping me with this blog’s picture.