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Hector: Mike, what kind of horrid, mephitic shoes are you galumphing around in?
Mike: My sneakers are made of slices of delicious ham!
Hector: They stink to high heaven! Doesn't the smell of rotting meat bother you?
Mike: No, I can't think about the smell...
Mike: When the pain from the maggots burrowing into my feet is so overpowering.
Action: We see Mike's feet close up. Maggots are writhing all over slices of stinking, rotting slices of meat piled around Mike's throbbing foot.