Vans

My parents got a call from the principal. The principal told them that I had punched a kid in the face today. When a got home, my parents were furious.

But I didn’t punch anybody!” I protested. “The principal just hates me!” My parents were not convinced and sent me to my room. I stuck headphones in and cranked my music loud. It wasn’t fair. Why didn’t they believe me? Of course, I DID punch someone, but it was super justified.

If you were in my shoes, you would have done the exact same thing. The guy kept saying, "Damn Daniel with the white Vans" and although I do like white sneakers, my name is NOT Daniel. So yeah. I hit him alright. I don't even feel bad. It's not like I kicked him or whatever.

Besides, he had it coming. I wasn’t even wearing Vans, I was wearing Converse. I admit, it’s a personal pet peeve when people mix them up. You might say “well, that doesn’t seem like a good reason to hit someone,” but you have to understand...

you can’t spell “Converse” without “Con”. That’s what I am, an ex-con, and reformed con man. I’m trying to keep my nose clean, but it’s hard when people insult my kicks.

And with a brief jazz-hand gesture, he performed a 540­° pirouette on his right heel, allowed a slim gloss cane to slide down from his sleeve into his grip and chicken-walked away, his gum rubber soles silent on the tired sidewalk, accompanied only by the jarred click of his cane