Before you have a chance to escape, Jim puts all of his weight on one side of his foot, inadvertently creating a huge gap for you to fall into. And you fall, ending up lying with your arms sprawled over your head, alongside Jim's foot.
As the giant gamer walks home, step by step, you fall deeper and deeper into the sneaker, your face pressed against his vile-smelling white sock. The fabric of the shoe behind you feels slippery, almost greasy with sweat, and the smell that infiltrates your nostrils is a sour stench that reminds you of horrible, sopiled vinegar. You feel dizzy in your awkward position, lying with your head tilted in accordance with the downward slope made by the impression of the ball of Jimmy's foot inside his shoe, and you wonder when the last time this kid changed his socks was -- the black and white sneaker looked meticulously clean from the outside, surely no one would have imagined the suffocating odour that lived inside the nerd's shoe and how much suffering it could inflict on one tiny, unfortunate victim..
A half hour later, Jim finally walks into his upstairs room, dumps his book bag on the bed and kicks off his sneakers. "Thank God!" you say to yourself, feebly crawling towards the top of the shoe, where dim light is flooding in.
The smell actually hasn't improved any -- It seems that now, with air travelling in and out, the powerful odour has only been made thicker and more mobile. You clutch the shoe's thin, canvas tongue, noticing a large "10 US" printed on its inside, and you stand, your arms hanging out of the shoe. In front of you, you're greeted with the sight of..
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