A Sock Fairytale

I knew I shouldn’t have allowed the socks to have free access to the library. After all – what good does it do for a sock to get lofty ideas about the future? But it was such a dull, dreary day, and they were normally such cheerful socks, that I figured a little pick-me-up by way of a story or two couldn’t hurt.

The trouble started with the art books. They started finding revered ancestors in Paris, and Florence, and getting above themselves. I mean, so what if your great-great-great-great grandmother was the Mona Lisa? You’re still a sock. But no, once they got started there was no telling them anything.

I hustled the books back onto the shelves, in what I though was the nick of time. I decided to stick to fairytales. How could a story about knights and dragons hurt a sock? They seemed to calm down, and were just enjoying the tale. Or so I thought.

The next morning, when I went to get dressed, the socks were gone. It was very inconvenient, since I had to wear sturdy shoes for work that day, and without socks – gross. I looked high and low, but there was no sign of them anywhere. Then I realized that someone had raided the sewing drawer, and run off with a crochet needle and the spare yarn that I usually use for repairs. Uh oh.

I waited weeks without any word, until one day I got a picture from somewhere in Bohemia. They had found their dragon and tamed it. The note said to distribute their possessions to any socks that came after. They were never coming home.