Enjoy!
Dave
The Golden Foot of Archie McCain Part 1
Archie McCain had a golden foot. His father knew it early on. Young Archie, barely able to walk, could kick his SpongeBob ball halfway across the living room. Archie's dad would smile a huge toothy grin and say proudly to his wife, "That boy has a golden foot. If he keeps kicking like that, he'll be set for life." Archie and his dad spent hours playing ball every evening, and by the time Archie was ready for kindergarten he could kick a football over the roof of his house. Every night, Archie's dad tucked him into bed and would say "Archie, that foot of yours in turning to gold. You keep kicking like that and you'll be set for life. Don't you change a thing Archie. You'll be set for life." Archie fell asleep each night dreaming of playing football and kicking the winning fieldgoal in the big game.
The old codgers that lived on Archie's street remember him well. They would sit on their front porches on the hot summer evenings and watch Archie place kick the football up Green Street. "That boy sure can kick" they would say as they smoked their stogies and drank their Milwaukee's Best. "Yep, that foot of his is turnin' to gold." Archie spent hours upon hours kicking that football, dreaming of his chance to win the big game.
By the time he was in junior high school, Archie's parents had to special order steel toed shoes from the Redwing store downtown. Archie spent so much time kicking the football that he kept wearing holes in the toes of his shoes. The special shoes were expensive, but not nearly as expensive as replacing a pair of lesser shoes each week. His parents had very little money, but gladly paid the extra to keep Archie's golden foot protected. "Archie, you just keep kicking," his dad would say as he tucked him into his small bed with its tattered mattress and torn sheets. "That foot of yours is turning to gold. Don't you change a thing and you'll be set for life." Archie fell asleep and dreamed of kicking the winning fieldgoal in the big game.
The old codgers that lived on Archie's street remember him well. They would sit on their front porches on the hot summer evenings and watch Archie place kick the football up Green Street. "That boy sure can kick" they would say as they smoked their stogies and drank their Milwaukee's Best. "Yep, that foot of his is turnin' to gold." Archie spent hours upon hours kicking that football, dreaming of his chance to win the big game.
By the time he was in junior high school, Archie's parents had to special order steel toed shoes from the Redwing store downtown. Archie spent so much time kicking the football that he kept wearing holes in the toes of his shoes. The special shoes were expensive, but not nearly as expensive as replacing a pair of lesser shoes each week. His parents had very little money, but gladly paid the extra to keep Archie's golden foot protected. "Archie, you just keep kicking," his dad would say as he tucked him into his small bed with its tattered mattress and torn sheets. "That foot of yours is turning to gold. Don't you change a thing and you'll be set for life." Archie fell asleep and dreamed of kicking the winning fieldgoal in the big game.
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