Impaled Part 1 4 min read

Cyndi slowly opened her eyes at the sound of the soft classical music coming from the clock radio after a delightful night’s slumber. “WOW!” she thought as she slowly gained all of her senses. Had she really spent seven hours chatting with her new “Foot Pets” on the WWW, yesterday?

From an early age, Cyndi knew she was different, from the time she accidentally crushed an errant and unsuspecting newt under the lethal spike heel of her mother’s 4 1/2-inch strappy sandal while dancing on her back porch, she began hunting victims for her pleasure. Now, with the new website, there would be a never-ending plethora of men fighting to be first to taste the sting of her BZs (you know the hollow heel that causes maximum damage and maximum pain). “Why fight it she thought!” There was plenty of pain in her heels for any and all men.

Slandering out of bed, Cyndi stretched both arms into the air and yawned, “Another day, another slave!” Showering quickly, Cyndi had only one thing on her agenda this morning, “I must get to K-Mart for some more film, I can’t be caught short.” Cyndi donned a mini pastel sundress and slipped her perfectly manicured red lacquered toes into a pair of old worn 4 1/2 inch black metal spike heels she used for everyday wear. “Squish” was the sound both feet made as she entered both shoes. Cyndi loved the sound, and walking in these worn metal spikes was just like walking in sneakers to her. Giving her hair a once over with Ghost Mist perfume, she quickly grabbed her car keys.

Cyndi inserted the key into the ignition of her vintage red Camaro and gave it a turn. AAAARRRRRR. “Come on, Come on,” she thought as the engine refused to start. She turned the key again, and began vigorously pumping the gas pedal in the hope that this “four-wheeled mechanical troublemaker” would get the message “let’s go”! She could not understand this; she had just had the car serviced. “I must return to the service center and have a few choice words with that mechanic,” she thought. Finally, after her right foot violently hit the gas pedal for the tenth time, almost causing her metal heel to tear through the floorboard, her baby started, and Cyndi breathed a refreshing sigh of relief.

Pulling into the K-Mart parking lot, Cyndi never noticed Jim, a store employee, who arrived at the same time as she did. Exiting her Camaro, Cyndi placed both heels onto the concrete parking lot, making a sound like two shots from a small caliber gun. This caught Jim’s attention and he turned to behold Cyndi, a stunning blond, very similar in appearance to Pam, his ex-girlfriend. Jim hated Pam now, and was trying to erase her from his memory, but seeing Cyndi only triggered a flood of negative emotions. “That bitch,” he thought of Pam. “That two-timing Bitch!”

Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Jim walked ahead of Cyndi, but the staccato sound of her spikes viciously striking the ground, only reinforced all the negative feelings he had for Pam now. “My, how I hate that sound he thought!”

Now inside the store, Cyndi remembered several more items she needed, and proceeded immediately to the jewelry counter, a new gold ankle bracelet was in order, after the one that snapped while she was trying to start the car. After picking up a couple more items, Cyndi headed for the film counter.

“Hello,” was Cyndi’s greeting as she approached a young man sitting on the floor bracing himself with one hand behind his back, resting it on the floor, while he inserted film into film slots with his other hand. Jim, hating the sound of stiletto heels was totally unprepared as Cyndi neared him. Ghost Mist! Ghost Mist! That was the perfume Pam wore! Cyndi began her next sentence, “Do you…?” But before she should finish, Jim arrogantly quipped, “LADY DO YOU SEE WHAT I’M DOING? WHAT DO YOU WANT?!?!” Caught off guard by Jim’s sudden disrespectful response, Cyndi stepped around Jim and leaned up onto the toe of her left shoe, and reached for a box of film on the top shelf, bringing her right foot into the air. “Accidentally, ” as her right foot returned to the floor, Cyndi stepped backward, her well-worn sharp metal spike landing on the back of Jim’s hand, just above the knuckle of his index finger. Cyndi really did not feel it and was surprised by the low squeal coming from below her. Cyndi looked down into Jim’s contorted face of pain, a face that nearly had its eyeballs popping out. One second, two seconds, three seconds, then came the SCREAM, “LADY! PLEEEEEASE GET OFF OF MY HAND!!!” Oh! Cyndi said in mock concern, as she twisted her heel on his hand and stepped away, bidding him ” have a good day”, as she made her way to the checkout counter.

NO, the sound of the siren did not surprise Cyndi, as she stood in the checkout line. She knew it would be bad for him after she looked down and saw his hand underneath her heel. But, for Cyndi, this was just another free lesson she was willing to give all men. A lesson that Jim had now learned. “ALWAYS RESPECT WOMEN IN SPIKES!”