The social workers called me into the office. The first one gestured at my clothes. “Why are you dressed this way?”
I looked down at what I was wearing that day: a sleeveless white t-shirt with an anarchy symbol scrawled on the front with a red magic marker.
“What? This is just my style.”
She pointed at my hi-tops. I’d written the word “FUCK” on the front tip of my right shoe, and on the left, “OFF.”
“You have ‘death is the ultimate high’ written on the side of your shoes… Are you suicidal?”
“No, that’s from Miami Vice. When Crocket and Tubbs went after these punk rock thugs, that’s what they had spray-painted on the side of their car. I just thought it was a funny expression. It’s not supposed to mean anything.”