Pop Culture Equivalent: Puss in Boots, minus the puss
This is a ghost sandal, so basically fuck this thing already. The bakezori exist in houses where footwear is treated improperly. It's hard to wrap your head around that sentence to begin to understand what it even means -- you don't put your shoes away at night? You stepped in shit? You're one of those guys who likes to hump shoes? There are a lot of possibilities here, and none of them seem like they merit the shoe itself coming to life with the help of a malevolent spirit. Maybe the humping one, but then you have to figure the dude would want to hump it even more if it can squirm around and talk, so it's not the best course of action for a shoe to take.
"Stop humping me or else ... well ... nothing, really."
It's not enough that this is a living sandal -- it comes to life I guess as a protest of its shoddy treatment and will run through the house shouting some shit about shoes. Imagine if one of those jackasses in the referee shirt from Foot Locker was loose in your house at night and was paid solely on commission so you could never get him to shut up about why Adidas Springblades will totally enhance your game. That's what this thing does. Probably if you start taking care of your shoes it will stop, or, as a less intrusive method, you could just throw the shoe in the trash. It's not like it can get back in the house, it's a shoe.
Pop Culture Equivalent: Fox News
According to the website Scary for Kids, "shiri" means "butt" and "me" means "eye," and thus "shirime" means "butt eye." I'm glad I learned about this on a children's website, this being a ghost that stares at you from the depths of its asshole. Kids love that kind of shit.
The first story I read about the shirime started out in a promising way. It's a dark night and a samurai warrior walks the streets alone. Picture it: feudal Japan, a gentle fog covering the ground, the samurai's footfalls making not a sound as he patrols the night. A black sky above is illuminated by a heavy moon, and suddenly a rustling sound catches the warrior's attention. Someone is following him. A voice splits the night, desperate yet otherworldly. "Wait!" it cries. "Please wait!"
The samurai turns quickly and there in the light of the moon is a dude who drops trou and bends over, spreading his ass with the grace of a drunkard spreading cream cheese on a bagel, and in the center of it all, one beady, goatse'd eyeball stares back at him.
"Lemme ask you something -- does my eye smell funny?"
By now you should have guessed that the story ends there. Because in Japanese folklore you can end a story at the moment someone with an eye for an ass shows their ass eye to a samurai. Did the samurai kick the ass eye? Did he whip out his own dick finger? Did the two of them go out for steaks? Obviously all of that is superfluous. Everything you need to know in this story is nestled firmly and warmly in that guy's ass crack.
A different version of the same story tacked on the details that the eye emitted light and the samurai ran away, which offer as much closure as someone coming out of your bathroom and saying "That went poorly" without elaborating any further. If there's any lesson to take away from this story, it's that, should you see one of these beasts, push it onto its back, thus allowing you to escape while it is blinded by its own ballsack.