Sock Cannibal
September 14th, 2011
That’s me. Yeah. You can scorn with your piercing, angel-like eyes but deep down I know what I did and I am more than comfortable with it. There is not one drop of guilt in this frail old body, no sir. I was like a boxer and I pummeled those socky wocks good and proper. You would have done the same, possibly, probably, about fifty or so years ago. Maybe.
I wear a lot of socks, who doesn’t? With wearing comes tearing, so the saying goes, and I have come across a lot of holes in my time. Nobody likes holes. I refuse to back down when it comes to holes. I refuse to admit defeat and move onto the next pair of socks, so what did I do? I looked those suckers in the eye and gave ’em what for. That’s right.
I took one of their kind. I took one that had a hole in itself and cut that sucker up to pieces. Then I sewed the remains to the insides of the other socks with holes and all the while I was laughing, laughing, laughing like a happy chicken. It was a lot harder than I thought it was however I persevered and in the end I came out with some odd-looking socks. Yes, I now have some strange-looking apparel for my feet. Luckily they spend most of their time in shoes so I don’t need to make excuses.
If only I could mend shoes, now there’s an idea…