David. That's what they call me. Because I like it that way. The parents named me Richard Francis. What the hell is that? The minute I was old enough to recognize stupidity I demanded to be called David. Not Dave. Not Davy. David.
Around the time I found my true name, I found my identity. There's not a lot to me, except I have a thing for green shoes. Any kind of shoes as long as they're unarguably green. No reason, I just like them.
I once saw this girl, 18 or 19 maybe, walking in a park with green headphones over her head of crazy green hair. She had on a green tank top, jeans with green seams around the pockets and ankles, and she was wearing green eye make-up. I don't think she liked the color green. What made me extra irritated was the fact that she looked that weird and she wasn't even wearing green shoes! So after watching her mindlessly stroll along the walking path, I approached her.
"Do you ever think about wearing green shoes?" I shot.
Of course she didn't hear me because of her green headphones, so she yanked them off, half-annoyed, and I repeated my question.
She seemed appalled. I couldn't understand why. Obviously she was trying to sport as much green as possible. I was close enough now to notice that her eyes were also green. (Contacts I bet.) She looked like a fucking alien. She could have at least worn green shoes. They are actually found in stores, and easier to come across than green hair dye.
Before I could ask if she was listening to Green Day, she threw on her headphones and dashed away from me. Bitch.
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