Sam's winning story

My best friend is my pair of shoes. “Why?” you ask. My best friend is always with me, always supporting me and is so loyal. My best friend never argues, back chats or walks away from me. My best friend does not even have a good life but still sticks with me. Now that is a best friend.

Many years ago my shoes were sitting in a shop waiting for some guy to come in and say, “I’ll take those ones up the back there.” How do you think they would have felt? One minute they are on the shelf in a shop chatting to their mate, next minute they are on my feet starting a life of misery.

Can you imagine being my shoes? All you would do, day in day out, is get stepped on, pounded into the dirt, kicked into concrete and then thrown into a pile of shoes and waiting for the next terrible day. When I play kick ball I’m having fun but I hardly spare a thought for my shoes. I don’t know about you but I have never given my shoes a rest or a thank you, let alone a treat, and still they are loyal to me.

My shoes never see any of the views when I go on holiday, for example, to the Eiffel Tower. I was gazing up at the tall, amazing and majestic structure, but did my poor little shoes see anything apart from other countless suffering shoes? No, they didn’t even know they were in France!

At the end of the day people sometimes give their feet a massage and say how their feet carry the weight of their bodies all day. Well, what about my best friends, my shoes, it is them that have to do all the hard work? They have to step on glass, rocks, insects and even hot tarmac and often get cut or injured. The only time my feet get cut or injured is when my mum gets out the splinter probe!

I bet if you or I were a shoe we would mumble and grumble like kids doing the household jobs. My shoes never mumble and grumble. They are more long suffering and non-complaining than any human friend could ever be.

Can you imagine my best friends at school playing tips and kicking balls all day? How much hard work would that be? Then during class, how horribly boring would it be with no work to do, movies to watch and no shoes to talk to? The only experience they have is looking under the desk at the other shoes.

When I do some good work I get an ice block. When my shoes do some good work all they get is the smell of my cheesy feet! When I go to get my lunch my shoes take me there, when I go to assembly my shoes take me there, when I go to the toilet my shoes take me there, when I go to Library my shoes take me there. My shoes take me all round the school all day. They are so long suffering but they never complain.

One of the worst things for my best friends is the amazing experiences I have that they do not have. Do they see the bright sparkling stars shining in the night? Do they see the monstrous waterfall exploding into an array of white shining water when it hits the rocks at the bottom? No, no and no! All my best friend sees are the rocks, grass, dirt and concrete.

When I see glass on the ground I don’t say, “I had better walk around that.” I say, “I had better put my shoes on,” and then I walk all over it.

When I go for a climb on the rocks at the beach, I don’t give a thought for my shoes, being stabbed at by the hard jagged rocks that point up like daggers, I just keep climbing. When I accidentally step in dog poo, I don’t say, “Oh my poor best friends.” I say, “Lucky I had my shoes on!” My shoes must be thinking, “Lucky for you.” On hot days my parents don’t think when they say, “Put your shoes on, the tarmac’s hot.”

They just don’t care about my best friends.

At the end of the day my best friends certainly don’t get the privilege of a bed. Oh no! They just get thrown onto a pile of other poor shoes. Do you wonder what your shoes are doing at night? I did not until recently. Now I think, do my best friends smell each other all night? Do they talk to each other, do they cry about their awful days or do they just sit there in the dark, dark night with absolute silence in the air, full of dread for the next terrible day?

Last, but definitely not least, when my friends get too small, broken and old, they do not get thanked and buried in a nice cemetery with flowers. Oh no! After years of always being with me and supporting me, my best friends get chucked in the bin to rot and decompose, with all the other putrid and disgusting rubbish in the tip.

You could not find a more loyal and long suffering best friend than my tremendous, magnificent pair of shoes……


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