Feet or Fire? Featuring: hat and awesome shoes Author: LA DOCE Scotty sniffs the air. “Do you smell that?” he asks his roommate Chris. “Yeah, it’s probably my feet. Or yesterday’s half-eaten lunch still in my backpack. Whatever, same smell.” “No,” says Scotty shaking his head. “It’s a smoky smell... I think it’s coming from the hall.” Scott gets up but Chris makes no attempt to follow. He’s too engrossed in his favorite comic to even bother looking up. He laughs to himself after every couple of panels, oblivious to the outside world. When Scotty sees that he’s not getting up he says, “I’m going out to investigate. I hope it’s not a fire. Just in case, ready your shoes.” “Sure, you can borrow my awesome red shoes anytime. Have fun dancing!” Scotty blinks once and then walks out the door. He sees some of the smoke towards the end of the hall. Is no one else awake or are they all outside? Scotty rushes back to his own room and snatches the comic out of Chris’s hands. “There’s a fire, you have to get out now!” “FIRE!” hollers Chris energetically. He rushes out the door barefoot and then immediately rushes back. He picks the comic up from the floor where Scott dropped it. He smiles at him, kisses Scotty’s nose and then rushes out screaming as if the flames were inches behind him. Well, at least he’s out of harm’s way, thinks Scotty. But now to warn the others! Scotty runs down the hall and bangs on all the doors as he passes. “Fire! There’s a fire in the building, we all have to go!!” He doesn’t look back to see which doors open or whose head pokes out. Suddenly, he realizes that the person whose room is filled with smoke may not even know it. In a fit of bravery, he rushes to the room where smoke is seeping out of and bursts through. At first he can’t see clearly for all the smoke but as some of it escapes out the open door he sees two figures sitting in armchairs. He recognizes one of them ... can it be...? One of the seated men is wearing a green army uniform and continues to puff on his Cuban cigar. “No fire here, just fun. You look like you could use one of these.” He offers one to Scotty who stares dumbly at it. The other man is smoking a cigar too. He’s wearing a black hat, a beret of sorts with a red star in the front. He looks familiar too. “I think I’ve seen your face on a t-shirt before,” Scotty finally says to the man with the beret. The man extends his hand. “Ernesto Guevara de la Serna, at your service. But you may call me Che, if you’d like.” “Whoa! I thought you were dead?” Che shrugs. “Not really. Just out of commission.” Scotty looks back at the man in the green army uniform. “I know you... You’re Fidel Castro! My roommate tripped over you once!” Fidel Castro chuckles, recalling the event. “Ahh, yes. He’s tripped over me many times actually. Funny little boy, he is.” Scotty begins to wonder if he’s dreaming or if the cigar smoke is getting to him. Regardless, he sits down Indian-style in front of them. “So, can I ask you a question?” Che clasps his hands under his chin, smiling. “Ask me anything. Especially about Marxist theory.” “Oh no, it’s nothing as complicated as that. I just want to know where you got that cool hat?”