Yasha Cadera
Mom'alor
So there I was, miles away from where I'd been and in a hearty yet pleasantly designed area of shops about three lightyears away from the Main Drag. Why was I there?
I'm tired of buying ugly shoes.
Seriously, in the fashionable places there's inevitably that one gum-chewing sales person who has pride in their work and in their sales numbers to the point of retail tyranny. I always end up in these gawd-awful pumps with buckles and laces on sideways, one time, I got a pair of shoes made for a Grr-lek. They were shaped like flippers. I had to wait till after the dude had gone home to run in, dump the shoes, get my money back and run out before another sales person tried to sell me the same pair of boots Clumsy the Chainsaw Juggling Clown was wearing before his unfortunate 'incident'.
My boots, oh my deliciously comfy brown boots with the imitation voorpah fluff in them have holes in the bottom. And by holes I mean my toe is going through. I need shoes. Boots, preferrably, I already have seven pairs of slippers of varying sizes, shapes and colours in Roy. Roy's my little Lifter Ship! Daddy's so proud.
I reach out briefly into that hazy gray fog I kind of maybe know as the Force. Usually it's good to tell me what ails you, but today I'm hoping it tells me which boot stores are being run by people who hate their jobs and are counting down the hours. Those guys usually don't rub off on me too much.
Whoever said empathy was epic clearly didn't read as a child.
OOC: WHATCHOO GOT, SW Chaos!? CAMAAAAN! I can take it! *hides*
I'm tired of buying ugly shoes.
Seriously, in the fashionable places there's inevitably that one gum-chewing sales person who has pride in their work and in their sales numbers to the point of retail tyranny. I always end up in these gawd-awful pumps with buckles and laces on sideways, one time, I got a pair of shoes made for a Grr-lek. They were shaped like flippers. I had to wait till after the dude had gone home to run in, dump the shoes, get my money back and run out before another sales person tried to sell me the same pair of boots Clumsy the Chainsaw Juggling Clown was wearing before his unfortunate 'incident'.
My boots, oh my deliciously comfy brown boots with the imitation voorpah fluff in them have holes in the bottom. And by holes I mean my toe is going through. I need shoes. Boots, preferrably, I already have seven pairs of slippers of varying sizes, shapes and colours in Roy. Roy's my little Lifter Ship! Daddy's so proud.
I reach out briefly into that hazy gray fog I kind of maybe know as the Force. Usually it's good to tell me what ails you, but today I'm hoping it tells me which boot stores are being run by people who hate their jobs and are counting down the hours. Those guys usually don't rub off on me too much.
Whoever said empathy was epic clearly didn't read as a child.
OOC: WHATCHOO GOT, SW Chaos!? CAMAAAAN! I can take it! *hides*