I went to bathroom #4 and saw the clothes tossed all over the floor; the shower was on, steam crawling over the walls; my black and white satin shoes with small quirky bows were getting exposed to the humidity in large amounts; why were they not in their box and what were they doing here?!
The whole search for my shoes started when I could not find them this morning so I went from room to room trying to trace them; and – George.
I was sure he snatched them; I saw how he looked at them yesterday when I had them on when we met him for dinner; but we had a deal – play with whatever you want; you may borrow my hats, my sunglasses, or even dresses as much as you please; but NOT MY SHOES!
George, that prick with wide hairy feet, who kidnapped my shoes, must have had plenty of time to try them on while I was sleeping (a mental note – inspect the shoes for yucky hair traces after you find that lying cross-dresser and pull his ears out) and when I came in he must have just dropped them on the floor and hid in the shower!
George, you coward and thief, you so crossed the limit this time; we will never be staying at your place when we are in Como again; you may try to sweet-talk me, but good luck with that!
I do not care that my hubby is delighted that I am pissed off with someone else (for a change) this early in the morning, and is not likely to support my decision to end our friendship with you; I do not care that your precious arse is naked and no one who does not pay you 25 million dollars or is not intimate with you gets to see it; get out of the shower and explain what you did to my shoes; NOW!