If the shoe fits are you an alien?

There I was, driving to work as I have done at least 6,600 times to date. Wow. That's a lot of gas. Anyway, as I passed the Holiday Station store at Xkimo and 169, bragging about its stupid $2.33 per gallon gas prices, somehow mocking me and knowing I had just paid $2.39 at Bill's Superette down the street (who exactly is "Bill" anyway?), I happened to notice a dark lump of something lying right in the middle of the road. Literally right in the middle, balanced on the center line. Assuming it was the usual skunk or squirrel road kill so popular around here I barely slowed from my 60 mph personal min. speed or glanced up from phone texting my novel (texting a novel while driving is often referred to as drivel) when something caught my eye. It was a shoe. No, it was a galosh. Singular for galoshes, this galosh was missing it's right foot. Not that Christy Brown would ever notice. Apparently his left foot was enough, the Irish braggart.

Seeing that galosh got me to thinking. Why it, why now? Why do I even see shoes in the road at all? You never see a pair of shoes, only one. Often times you will drive past a shoe out in the desolate middle of nowhere. Why? Where do these almost anachronisms come from? Do people moving not tie down their shoes and they flip out of the pick-up? Did they just walk there? My mother when in cleaning mode used to scrunch her face up, put her hands on her hips, and actually ask me if I thought my shoes were just going to walk themselves to my room. Maybe I should have waited to find out. Do domestic disputes on wheels often turn to the threatening of shoe-a-cide? (I swear, Jeananne, you stop this car right now or I'm throwing this baby out. I swear, I'll do it! It's a Hushpuppy! It's a Hushpuppy!!" BAM. Gone baby bootie Gone. Is that what happens?

I don't think so. I think it is an alien form of communication. Think about it. When you see one of those lost and lonely shoes do you ever stop to pick it up? Does it cross your mind, hey, is that an 8 narrow? I've been needing a new right shoe, damn you pubescent scoliosis. No, it doesn't. What you hear is your mother's voice saying, don't touch that it's dirty. You don't know who's foot was in there. Then in a whisper, you don't even know if they wore socks. What? Are you serious? Gee, I wonder what kind of shoes Ted Bundy wore? Yes mother, because if I were to don some article of clothing from the Ted Bundy spring break collection I'm sure I would instantly turn insane and develop and unnatural attraction to all things necrophiliac. Aileen Wuornos' thumb ring? No way! Where's the John? Puh-lease. Anyway I digress, or digest as Jeffrey Dahmer used to say. I'm thinking alien "hide-in-plain-sight" theory.

The shoes are out there, they're clearly out of place and yet we drive on, ignoring the fact that someone's footwear is living on the side of a six lane highway. Have you ever seen a shoe actually fall out of a moving car or garbage or Goodwill truck? I didn't think so. Me neither. So what gives? See, the aliens who walk amongst us, well, those with feet, have figured out what we'll ignore, and shoes on the road we'll ignore. Wallets? No. Purses? Never. Alex Forrest? She won't be ignored, Dan! But that's a fatal attraction for another day.

I don't know what it means but I know they may contain messages and probably, not certainly, but probably alien. I'm watching. Tomorrow that galosh will be gone. Have you noticed that as well? Shoe, no shoe, just like that. Someone or something is collecting them. Who? When? It's all so strange and now that I've noticed I will proceed with caution. Am I safe? Can I grab a shoe and understand it's alien meaning? We shall see, we shall see. Until next time....