found drama

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dream.20060616: foot fetish airlines

by Rob Friesel

Yii runs the only airline out of Little Square Falls. It’s a little two-prop Cessna that he charters out and lands right there on the main strip of this little back-water burg. More of a frontier town than anything else, Little Square Falls has dirt roads between its buildings (that do double duty as landing strips) and a few paths that lead out to the surrounding snarl of trees. (It feels a bit like Whoop Whoop except that the region is a rainy, temperate forest instead of some outback-ish desert.) Yii is influential in this town because he runs the only means of transport that can bring you in or take you out. No one knows why Little Square Falls is such a popular tourist destination. Must be the lawlessness. I’ve been stranded in town for a couple of months. I’ve somehow managed to get myself embroiled in some kind of indenture to the man who runs the local tavern/saloon/brothel and after these past few months, I’ve managed to figure a way out. It won’t be easy but I can manage it. I’ve discovered Yii’s secret exploitable weakness: women’s shoes. He’s got a foot-and-shoe fetish to the Nth degree. I don’t need to save up the cash to escape; as the saloon’s errand boy, I have access to the owner’s daughters’ rooms. And consequently, their vast collections of flats, heels, slings, and so on… I’d been working up to this for a couple of weeks, picking out just the right shoes. And today is the day. As the sisters (who are Paris Hilton-ish but actually look feminine) head downstairs into the Burlesque frenzy, I use my key to let myself in. Then – – quick as can be – – I shove a pair of gold and a pair metallic pink shoes into a plastic Shaw’s bag. I make my way calmly down the back service stair well, as if I’m headed for the dumpster out back. I want to make my way calmly down the main drag to the plane but I see that Yii already has the engines started. I take off running, holding the Shaw’s bag aloft, yelling: “Yii! Shoes!” Yii stops the engines just long enough to let me board. He wastes no time in evaluating the shoes. “Very nice. Definitely worth price of fare.” But he doesn’t get the engines started back up fast enough and the sisters come running out, screaming bloody murder that I’ve stolen their shoes…

About Rob Friesel

Software engineer by day, science fiction writer by night. Author of The PhantomJS Cookbook and a short story in Please Do Not Remove.

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