10. Destructo-Feet

Chapter 10 Destructo-Feet "Roscoe," my dad said when I got home, "where are your Walkie-Talkies? And whose gigantic shoes are those?" "They're Gus's," I explained. "He really, really wants a pair of Walkie-Talkies. We're switching for a day." "How can Gus's feet possibly fit in your shoes?" my mom asked. "Toe smushing," I explained. Mom and Dad gave each other a kids-are-crazy look. All that evening and Saturday morning, I wore Gus's shoes. I wore them to the playground. I wore them climbing up to my tree house in the backyard. I wore them while I played basketball with Max. And you know what?

Those Ruff and Tuffs got dirty and dusty and dinged up. But they definitely were not interested in dying anytime soon. Clearly, I had to get serious. I ran my fastest. I jumped my highest. I kicked the hardest rocks I could find. But those shoes were still almost as good as new. By Saturday afternoon, it looked like I was going to have to tell Gus that I'd failed. "Here," I said when he came over to play. "Take your Ruff and Tuffs back. Turns out they can't be killed. I tried everything." Gus examined one of his sneakers. "Amazing," he muttered. "That ad is actually true!" "I've never seen sneakers like this," I said. "I can't understand it. I did all the things I usually do with my shoes." Suddenly another one of my great ideas popped into my brain. "Hey," I said with a grin, "maybe we need to try some unusual things." Gus grinned back. "Like what?" he asked.

"Follow me," I said. I led Gus to the garage and opened my Junior Handyman toolbox. "Hammer, anyone?" I asked. Gus chose a blue plastic hammer. I chose a nice yellow pair of pliers. "Race you," I said. Gus hammered his right Ruff and Tuff as hard as he could. I squeezed and poked his left Ruff and Tuff as hard as I could. "Boys?" my mom called from the driveway. "What are you up to in there?"

"We're just making something, Mom," I yelled back. "Unmaking something is more like it," Gus whispered. "Well, don't make a mess," Mom called. After five more minutes of hammering and pliering, we checked our work. Gus shook his head. "These are like Godzilla shoes. They're indestructible." "Nothing's indestructible, Gus," I said. "Take it from Mr. Destructo-feet." "What else can we do to them?" Gus asked. "Scissors?" I suggested. "Too obvious," Gus said. "Garbage disposal?" "Too dangerous," Gus said. "Toilet flushing?" I said. Gus made a face. "Too risky." I threw one of the Ruff and Tuffs at the garage wall. It bounced right back to me. Good as new. "Face it, Roscoe," Gus said. "The shoes beat us, fair and square."