Once upon a time (very recently, in fact), a man named Gerard bought a new pair of boots. He was very proud of them. The leather was dull and uniform, and the stitchwork on the soles was a bright, wheaty-beige.
It took Gerard a while to scrape together money for new boots, because the pair he desired was very expensive and difficult to find. Many cobblers he’d spoken to rejected his request, saying, “What you want is almost impossible to create! A once-in-a-lifetime kind of boot!” But he finally found someone to make them.
Gerard was pleased to have finally taken possession of the boots. He decided to wear them out of the establishment. So focused was he on his new boots, that he was totally ignorant of the large puddle ahead.
First foot, second foot… One and two… One and two… One and SPLASH… Oh, great. Gerard thought, rolling his eyes. A puddle.
“Ouch! Erm, do you mind?” said a voice.
“Oh, I beg your… pardon?” replied Gerard. He looked around for the origin of the voice, but there was no one there.
“Down here!” said the voice.
Gerard peered down, and found a murky, viscous puddle encompassing his new boots. He looked at the puddle, and the puddle looked at him.
“You’re standing on my face,” the puddle said.
“My apologies!” said Gerard, stepping out of the puddle. “I wasn’t expecting any puddles; it hasn’t rained recently.”
“It’s okay, I’m used to being stepped on,” the puddle replied with a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Gerard said. “Are you okay?” He knelt beside the puddle to inspect it. What it was made of or how deep it was was neither visually nor logically clear.
“Why do you care?” asked the puddle.
“Well, it’s not every day a puddle says ‘Ouch’, or much at all. You seem blue.”
The puddle sighed again. “Everyone’s been stepping on me, as if I’m not here, or am incapable of feeling pain. No matter what I say or do, they all end up stepping on me. They get mad at me, after. Like I’m supposed to move or something.”
“That’s odd,” Gerard replied.
The puddle began to weep, flowing into a slightly larger area. Gerard began to panic. How do you console a puddle?
“I guess I understand not wanting to get wet or dirty; I suppose that’s the risk you run while walking outside. However, getting mad at a static puddle for existing seems silly to me,” Gerard said.
“What do you mean?” asked the puddle.
Just then, a posh-looking woman appeared behind Gerard. She was preoccupied with a tabloid magazine, which she held up very, very close to her face. Just like Gerard before her, in a few swift steps, she was ankle-deep in the puddle.
“Cheese and crackers!” The woman shrieked. “Why are there so many gosh darn puddles in this city?! Pretty soon, this whole city will be nothing but puddles, all here to ruin my nice white shoes!”
The woman sneered down at the puddle, then at Gerard. “Did you put this dirty, disgusting puddle here? I know only deranged people kneel next to puddles; deranged people with dirty shoes. Are you deranged? You must be!”
Gerard glared at the woman. He confidently rose up from the ground to face her. “Ma’am,” began Gerard. “With all due respect, how dirty my shoes are and which puddles I decide to talk to are little to none of your business. This puddle is very kind, and you didn’t care about its existence until you stepped in it.”
The woman scoffed and strutted away, leaving muddy footprints wherever she walked.
“Why did you do that?” asked the puddle.
“I’m not sure,” replied Gerard. “It felt good to stick up for a friend.”
“I can’t be your friend,” said the puddle. “People will see us and think we’re deranged. Just think about it! Are you going to keep talking to a muddy puddle all the time? Or I suppose you’re going to carry me around in a pail and help strain all the mud, leaves, and dirt out of me…”
“If I have to scrape you off the ground every day, strain you, wash you, or fine-tune the exact amount of leaves-to-water ratio you want in order to be your friend, I’ll do it proudly,” said Gerard. “You’re worth it.”
The puddle began to well up with tears. Gerard sat next to the puddle and took off one of his boots. He used a discarded cup to ladle the puddle into the waterproofed interior of his new boots and carried the puddle all the way home with an awkward limp.
One and two… with each step. One, and two… One, and two…
