Yeezy 350 Boost Moonrocks

Daily writing exercise, 750words.com

fiction by Jason Edwards

My name is Taylor Swift, which is unfortunate, obviously. And I’m pretty much exactly the opposite of a female, thin, tall, beautiful singer. We’re both white, although that doesn’t really mean anything because once you hit a certain economic strata, everyone is white, more or less. But, otherwise, I’m not famous, I’m a guy, I’m short, kind of chubby, and no one would call me beautiful except my mom. We haven’t spoken in years. Not for any bad reason. People just grow apart.

But another thing I have in common with the famous Taylor Swift is that we both wear Yeezy 350 Boost Moonrocks. There are plenty of people, enough to be annoying, at least, who point this out to me. In my defense, I wore them first. Or, to be precise, I got mine before I knew she had hers.

Who knows, maybe the skinny Swift is friends with¬†Herbert Hainer himself, and he had the design team make them just for her. And she put on the first prototypes, months before they were on the market. Fine, she wore them first. I’m older than she is– I had the name first.

There’s me in a Karaoke bar on a Saturday night. Every other song is a Taylor Swift song. My friend Aaron is there. Aaron Dell. A. Dell. Starting to see a pattern here? Aaron is tall and skinny, and judging from the number of times he’s left the bar not-alone, he’s beautiful, I guess. And every song that’s not a Taylor Swift tune is an Adele song. At least Aaron can hide behind having a full name, and not need his initial unless, I don’t know, he needs an icebreaker to chat up a 43-year-old divorcee.

Not me. I don’t score. Short chubby guys who wear blue jeans, video-game t-shirts, vests, and Yeezy 350 Boost Moonrocks don’t score. No matter what we’re named. Or drink- Martinis. the guy at the karaoke bar soaks olives in vermouth and adds them to straight gin. They’re strong and they make me forget my name’s Taylor Swift.

And I do, eventually, and even though I can’t sing, I get up there and belt out something by Kid Rock. Badly, but then, whose identity is based on the ability and the pride earned from singing Bawitdaba really well? Who’s going to back to the office on Monday and gliding up to the coffee maker with a grin on his face and when Sheila in Accounts Receivable in her nearly see-through blouse and black bra and just a little too much lipsticks says, why the big grin, fella– who’s going to say “Just riding the high from nailing another Kid Rock anthem at Annie’s Sister Saturday¬†night.”

That’s the name of the Karaoke bar. Get it? Annie Oakley’s sister Carrie? Carry Oakly? Karaoke? I have tried to explain this to literally dozens of 45-year-old Zumba addicts and not one of them has ever understood what I was talking about. And then I tell them my name, and the amount of interest they wear on their faces at that moment is colossal in how much isn’t there.

Then Aaron walks up, and says something cheesy, like “Hey, quit hitting on my friend, he’s just here to ogle the bartender’s olives,” and they laugh, and he suggests a duet and she picks somethings country and he steers them towards something from the 70s, something with a lot of veiled sexual references, and I order another martini, and sit on my stool, and kick my Yeezy 350 Boost Moonrocks against the bar to the beat of Afternoon Delight.

Which all sounds very sad but, hey, I’ve got a job, I’ve got an apartment, I’ve got three characters up to level 100 in Warcraft, and I’ve got these Yeezy 350 Boost Moonrocks. I’ve had them for years now, and you know what? They still look brand new. I wear them to work, to the gym, around my apartment, in rain, in snow, for a summer of Ultimate Frisbee, which turned into a fall of disc golf, which turned into a winter of Xbox 360 at a dope dealer’s house, and then a spring of the new World of Warcraft expansion, me in my apartment in nothing but a pair of skivvies, a ratty robe, and these pristine Yeezy 350 Boost Moonrocks.

Yeah, I know how it is, if the rich Taylor Swift ever admitted to wearing nothing but a robe, a turquoise thong, and a pair of Yeezy 350 Boost Moonrocks, Us Weekly would go freakin’ nuts. But they’d go nuts no matter what shoes she was wearing. For me, mine are kind of special.