angelsslave1
07-08-2007, 11:47 AM
Angel was still heavily involved in the Walk For Hunger the folloowing weekend. Though the walk itself had ended a week earlier, she was still feeling sorry for herself for not having been physically able to walk . Therefore, she had come up with a new alternative for earning money for the cause. She would sell flip-flops at a flea market. Not just any flip flops, mind you. She had designed her own with the aide of a friend in the clothing business. Her flip-flops had Brenda's face printed upon them. This would enable the owner of a pair to constantly be stepping upon Brenda's face. Naturally, Brenda was wondering when this madness would end. How much more would she have to endure at the feet of Angel?
When we arrived to the flea market with hundreds of flip-flops in tow, Angel gave us our instructions for the afternoon. Each pair of flip-flops would cost the customer their old pair of flip-flops and $5.00, all of which would be donated to the homeless. My job was to receive each pair of used flip-flops and properly clean them as best I could with my tongue. Brenda, however, played a key role in the promotion process. She was to lay upon the ground and allow each customer the priviledge of stepping upon the actual face that made this all possible. Did I mention that Brenda was laying in the dirt this whole time while wearing a navy blue business suit? None of the customers even tried to avoid dirtying up her suit with their dusty barefeet. They stepped right up, placed one foot upon Brenda's face, and posed for a quick Polaroid reminder of the moment. Naturally, Angel was the photographer. None of the customers seemed to care that they were stepping upon my wife's face with their dirty feet. All that they seemed to be focussed upon was the fact that they were donating to a worthy cause. The pride in their eyes rivaled the humility in Brenda's eyes. Her life was over, it seemed. The majority of Angel's customers probably enjoyed humiliating my wife because Angel had told them ahead of time that Brenda was wearing a business suit because she's portraying the kind of money hungry snob that could care less about the homeless of the world. Most of our customers were the stereotypical trailer park woman who is raising too many kids and has had it up to here with women like Brenda. They seemed to enjoy every minute of this. I believe a few of them even spat down upon Brenda's face and ground their saliva in with the ball of their foot as though they were putting out a cigarette upon my wife's face.
By the end of the day, I had licked a lot of flip-flops and tasted a lot of feet. My wife had her face covered with dirt and footprints. And, we had entertained the superior Angel once again. However, I suppose it was for a good cause. That was what I kept telling myself while Brenda and I were worshipping Angel's dirty barefeet as she counted the day's earnings.
When we arrived to the flea market with hundreds of flip-flops in tow, Angel gave us our instructions for the afternoon. Each pair of flip-flops would cost the customer their old pair of flip-flops and $5.00, all of which would be donated to the homeless. My job was to receive each pair of used flip-flops and properly clean them as best I could with my tongue. Brenda, however, played a key role in the promotion process. She was to lay upon the ground and allow each customer the priviledge of stepping upon the actual face that made this all possible. Did I mention that Brenda was laying in the dirt this whole time while wearing a navy blue business suit? None of the customers even tried to avoid dirtying up her suit with their dusty barefeet. They stepped right up, placed one foot upon Brenda's face, and posed for a quick Polaroid reminder of the moment. Naturally, Angel was the photographer. None of the customers seemed to care that they were stepping upon my wife's face with their dirty feet. All that they seemed to be focussed upon was the fact that they were donating to a worthy cause. The pride in their eyes rivaled the humility in Brenda's eyes. Her life was over, it seemed. The majority of Angel's customers probably enjoyed humiliating my wife because Angel had told them ahead of time that Brenda was wearing a business suit because she's portraying the kind of money hungry snob that could care less about the homeless of the world. Most of our customers were the stereotypical trailer park woman who is raising too many kids and has had it up to here with women like Brenda. They seemed to enjoy every minute of this. I believe a few of them even spat down upon Brenda's face and ground their saliva in with the ball of their foot as though they were putting out a cigarette upon my wife's face.
By the end of the day, I had licked a lot of flip-flops and tasted a lot of feet. My wife had her face covered with dirt and footprints. And, we had entertained the superior Angel once again. However, I suppose it was for a good cause. That was what I kept telling myself while Brenda and I were worshipping Angel's dirty barefeet as she counted the day's earnings.