My roommate always leaves his little dungeon and dragon figurines all over the living room floor. Came home tonight, went to turn on a light and ‘CRUNCH’. I looked down and saw that I crushed a bunch of his little figurines under my boot. I twisted my boot back and forth a few times to make sure they were all good and smashed. Little elves or something. He had a bunch more on the floor along with a little castle. I kicked them together in a pile and then ground them into the carpet with my cowboy boots. They made a good crunching sound. Think he’ll keep his shit picked up now?
Stories about Acme Boots
My first Cowboy Boots!
By Mike Davis, Idaho, Texas, and now Colorado, posted April 7th, 2009
I was born into a family of farmers who thought they knew everything about raising and riding horses. My first horse was a little Shetland pony my grandfather gave us, and it is the same story you’ve heard a hundred times: I was riding that horse before I learned how to walk! Same exaggeration too!
From the moment I woke up each morning, with my toy rifle beside me in bed, until the last waking moment before slumber took over and I dreamed about all the cowboy magic, I was a little cowboy. I dreamed about riding horses, brave cowboys and fierce Indians (sorry…Native Americans), guns a-blaze, cowboy hats and…of course cowboy BOOTS! We were poor by most standards, and new things in those days didn’t just mean a trip to town. We’d plan and hope and dream, and maybe…just MAYBE someday some of those dreams would materialize.
My dream was a new pair of cowboy boots, and vary consistently I told my mother how much I wanted a pair. I mean, what kind of cowboy rides his own horse (albeit a Shetland) but doesn’t own a pair of cowboy boots??? It was truly a travesty, and I reminded her constantly.
As Christmas would approach each year on the farm, hiding places for Christmas gifts would always be a challenge for Mom. She was good…real good, but she had three boys and one girl that would scour the house from the basement to each bedroom…nothing was sacred. It was during one of those searching expeditions that I discovered a boot box tucked away really high (for a little cowboy anyway) in the basement, above where the canned frult was stored…an Acme Boot box…with a pair of black boots with light blue tops. Oh they were gorgeous and just what I wanted…and WHOA! Smell that brand new leather??? Nothing smelled as good as new leather boots! AND they were my size too!!! Well I couldn’t contain my excitement. I ran upstairs to show my mother what I’d found… Did I mention that she was good? …real good: she told me they for my cousin, Cathy Ann…same age…same size…nope … not mine.
Bummer. Hopes were dashed. Still riding that shetland in my sneakers…what kind of cowboy was I anyway…no boots…
Christmas Day…three AM (they couldn’t keep four kids in their beds much after three) I discovered those boots under the tree and my heart leaped…I mean it soared! Those Acme boots were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen…and they just fit! I wore them until they were about three sizes too small. I ran in them…I rode my horse in them…I wore them to school…I wore them to church…and yes I even slept in them. Know how to make a little cowboy happy? yep…new cowboy boots!
Sorry Cathy Ann…maybe next year.
