johnnie meatshoes

by Marty Shambles

Born John Merchant III, heir to the great Merchant fortune, Johnnie Meatshoes, (a name self-ascribed), squished out to the clamor of reporters, and the lightning of bulbs.

JOHNNIE: Quiet down, dingleberries. I'm gonna make this quick. Meat shoes are the new hot thing. I've got 'em. You want 'em. Any questions?

REPORTER 1: Are meat shoes exactly what they sound like?

JOHNNIE: If they sound like the future, then yes, bitch. Next Question.

REPORTER 2: How practical is it to wear meat shoes?

JOHNNIE: Meat shoes are now essential for big dick playas. Nobody asked Fabergie if his fucking gay ass eggs was practical, and now he dines in Valhalla. If you got any rizz at all, you gotta have some meat shoes.

REPORTER 3: What does your father think of this new venture of yours?

JOHNNIE: My father... is a brilliant businessman, but he's not the only baller in the family.

REPORTER 3: You didn't answer the question.

JOHNNIE: Yes I did. Next question.

REPORTER 4: Is the meat cooked?

JOHNNIE: Some shoes are cooked. Some are raw. We've got so many different varieties: ground chuck Taylors, meatloafers, baconstocks... like berkinstocks but--

REPORTER 4: Yeah we got it.

REPORTER 5: Is this just another fad for the ultra wealthy to waste money on?

JOHNNIE: ngl you've gotta stack some serious paper to get these shoes, but there's nothing like the squish of meat between your toes.

REPORTER 6: Why are you doing this?

JOHNNIE: Because I dictate taste. Y’all are gonna remember Johnnie Meatshoes.

And with that, he squished off to a waiting car.

The Yes Twins were in the car, waiting to tell him how awesome he was. Mark and Morty weren't twins. They weren't even related, but people called them the Yes Twins because they looked vaguely similar and they agreed with most everything Johnnie said.

To combat this nickname, they each leaned into their own personas. Mark became a crunchy new age type, with a beard and and psychedelic clothes, long hair, and hot dog flip flops. Morty was clean shaven, wearing well-tailored expensive suits, and shiny veal shoes; taciturn. Even still, the nickname persisted.

MARK: Tremendous vibes, Johnnie!

MORTY: Yes, there will surely be a line around the block--no, fuck the block, a line around the planet, to get Johnnie Meatshoes brand meat shoes.

JOHNNIE: Shit yeah, fellas! We're on the come-up. Started from the bottom now we're here.

MARK: From the bottom?

JOHNNIE: What's your problem with that?

MARK: It's just... we all met in an elite private school.

JOHNNIE: What's the problem with you? You've been acting ornery all week. Why are you fucking up my song?

MORTY: Started from the Upper middle to upper class now we're here. It doesn't scan.

JOHNNIE: It doesn't scan, Mark. You fucked up my song, Mark. How are you going to make it up to me?

Johnnie looked out the window on all the dumb fucks of the city doing dumb fucking shit he didn't care about.

MARK: Started from the bottom now we're here.

JOHNNIE: Too late, Mark.

On the way to Merchant Industries, they passed a Johnnie Meatshoes retail establishment. There were a bunch of animal rights douchebags out front, protesting. One sign read "Stop the Cruelty!"

JOHNNIE: Stop the car! I need to address these hippies.

MORTY: Do you think that's wise? From a PR perspective?

JOHNNIE: They're spreading lies. Our meat is cruelty-free. I have to stop.

The car circled the block to come back around to the store. Johnnie got out of the car and made contact.

JOHNNIE: Listen up, you dumb hippies! It's cruelty-free meat. It's on the fucking packaging.

PROTESTER: Murder yourself for some shoes! I'd wear them!

JOHNNIE: Okay that's really not funny. I struggle with mental health.

PROTESTER: I bet your ass meat would make great shoes.

Then the protester threw red paint on Johnnie's hype beast tracksuit.

JOHNNIE: You fuck! This is Vetements!

PROTESTER: Vete-what?

JOHNNIE: It's a brand. These clothes are worth more than your car!

PROTESTER: I don't own a car.

JOHNNIE: CROOOOOLTY FREEEEEE

Johnnie ran back in the car to get away from anything else they might throw.

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