Look into his closet. Past the rows of overalls and red shirts on hangars. What’s that aroma, a mixture of mushroom and turtle? Perhaps.
Now look down. There they are. The secret of his success. There’s only one pair, but that’s all he needs. Sleek. Yellow. Iridescent. His invincible Chucks. You dare not touch them, so you back slowly away, out of the closet, the room, the mushroom-shaped house. You’ll never forget, and you’ll always want them.