I don’t even wear boots

Five minutes ago I was offered a time machine and a big pair of boots. The man with the time machine said I could go back in time and smack, punch, or curb stomp whomsoever I liked. The problem is, where do you stop? If I started smacking, punching and curb stomping everyone in history who deserved it, I would not only be kept busy for a considerable amount of time, but I’d keep going back. History is all connected, things build on other things. I’m not sure I could stop until I got back to the beginning life on this planet and either jump up and down on the first fish with lungs and legs or stomp the Gods’ faces until I wore out the heels.

After that, I would probably be presented with a bill for the damages. Either that, or I would cease to exist. Either way, can I afford that? With my credit rating?

So, I declined the offer and told the guy that I wished him well in all his endeavors.

Now I’ve got some little demon sitting on my monitor. He says he heard about my idea about stomping the faces of all the deities and would like to know more about my plans. He said he can’t offer time travel, but he does have a kick-ass pair of boots with heels that are guaranteed not to wear out no matter what.

I’ve sorely tempted, which I know is the guy’s job and all. Still though, I could end this sentence in an ellipsis…