To the girl with the high heels,I really want you to know how much you hurt me last night. Thanks to your fugly, stripper-like high heeled shoes and atrocious dancing in Havanas, you left a mark on me, one with physical and emotional implications. It was only thanks to copious amounts of alcohol as an analgaesic that I survived the night at all and now my big toe has been left red and swollen. Not nice.
There I was, enjoying a casual dance with my friends when you came tramping in my direction, your little hooves stamping to the beat of Lady Gaga. I should have know better and run at that point but I was naive. Then, with a casual, sadistic, shrill cry of "Paparazzi" you stamped your heel into my foot, piercing the smooth leather of my shoes with the cheap, hardened plastic of yours. If you didn't hear my yelp of pain you should have at least noticed where you were putting your feet. I mean, let's face it, you're pretty close to the ground even with heels.
So to the girl who wore high heels last night I say, get back to Michael Guiney's where you most likely bought those shoes and stay there, that or the lap dancing club "Secrets" anyway. If I see you in Havanas again, we will most likely have words.
Kind regards,
Piney
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