THE BOY WHO WAS IN A COMA FOR 8 YEARS, PART III OF III

When we last left our hero, he was bartering for a pair of shoes. The salesman agreed to supply the shoes in exchange for a fez. Since the boy had no idea how to provide a new fez, he took a job at the shoe store to pay off his shoes. And as we join the boy, already in progress, he is approached by a prospective customer in fancy customer prospecting gear.
"Buy shoes," the boy stated, thrusting a shoe box in the abdomen of the prospective customer. Having recently awoken from an 8-year coma had rendered him very forward-thinking, and nothing was more forward at that moment than the prospective customer’s abdomen.
"You are a very forward young man," exhaled the prospective customer, adjusting the monocle on his right eye. He also had a monocle on his left eye, and three on his chin.
"I have recently awoken from an 8 year coma," the boy asked, realizing too late it wasn't an interrogative statement. The prospective customer did not seem to notice, as he placed an arm around the boy's shoulder. The fact that the arm did not belong to him didn't bother any of the parties involved.
"I like the cut of your jib. Yes, sir, that is the most well-cut jib I've seen through the monocle of my right eye in 8 years," the prospective customer proclaimed, signing the proclamation with an X rather than his name.
"Thank you," the boy remarked, looking the prospective customer up and down, then side to side, then inside-out. He discovered nothing interest, aside from the fact that the prospective customer’s stomach was filled with used monocles.
"Why don't you come work for me. I could use someone like you on my team, a recently de-comatized shoe salesman. We are equal-opportunity, after all," the prospective customer offered, switching the monocle from his right eye to his left, and placing the monocle on his left eye under his tongue.
"That sounds good, but I have to work here to pay for my shoes," the boy lamented, tears streaming down his cheek and up his mother's nose.
"Shoes? You don't need shoes where we're going, lad," the prospective customer laughed, spitting saliva throughout the shoe store and beyond, to the backroom.
And with that, the boy left the shoe store, and joined the prospective customer on his Olympic fire walking team, and joined such luminaries as his teammates and competitors, who were quite luminous, being around all that fire. And even though he never won a gold medal, or a silver medal, or actually even a bronze medal, and really only competed one year and didn’t make it past the time trials, his experiences would shape him into the boy who was in a coma for 8 years that he is today.
For you see, that boy was none other than Dave.
I don’t remember his last name, but you remember the Dave I mean. Big Dave, Blonde Dave. D-Day Dave. The Dave who was in a coma for 8 years, Dave?
That Dave.
THE
END
OF THE STORY