Just thought I'd throw this in here.  It's fun but I never quite finished it.  Maybe you'd like to make up your own ending?

Enjoy,

Auntie M.  

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/AuntieMs/

 

It’s as age-old story, really, but one I thought worth telling.  The life of the common-sock is one all can draw from.

After the proper knitting of cotton thread, I emerged as a fully formed, ready to wear, ankle height boy’s foot covering.  A sock.  Soon after I was paired with my mate and neatly stuffed into a plastic bag with four other pairs of socks.  I should have taken the clue and known that life would often put me in these tight spots.

The wait on the shelf was unbearable.  Would I be passed over forever?  What kind of boy might I get?  Would he be the sit and read type or the play in the mud without your shoes on type?  I understood that there really was no telling just by the look of a boy who might walk past.  They come with their mothers who usually want them to be, if not at their best, at least passable, when they come into a store.

My wait wasn’t forever.  A little blond boy with wide blue eyes took us all home along with new underwear and a pair of pants.  I happened to be shaded a dark blue, just the color he needed for his upcoming performance as Little Boy Blue in his family’s Kid’s On Stage night.  I thought this was promising from a sock’s perspective.  It didn’t seem too demanding of a job.  Someone should have told me the rest of the story.

Of course, still clean out of the bag, I was tossed into the washer right from the start, just to make sure.  The sudsing and rinsing weren’t too bad but I knew that spin cycle would take some getting used to.  Thankfully, we were just dried and not completely de-fluffed on the first run threw.    Still, there seemed to be plenty of lint in the filter when his mom removed us from the dryer.

The performance went off without a hitch except that there was a miscalculation of my shrinkage and I was too tight to stay on his foot longer than the few minutes I needed to cover his ankles in his blue costume.

Needless to say my mate and I were tossed on the floor of his room.  Now this wasn’t too bad.  I got a nice view of the bookshelf and thought I could just make out the shape of the hamster on his wheel as the evening turned to night.  My mate was good company until dawn.

It took a few days before we were noticed there on the floor.  I’m not sure what happened to my mate and I still wonder about that to this day.  I don’t know if he became a sock puppet or just got lost among the other clothes in the washer.  I do know what became of me.  I made it to the washer and held on for dear life through the spin cycle.  I was put in my boy’s drawer, in childish hopes that his foot might shrink so that I would fit and I waited to see if they would find my mate.

The back of his drawer was really quite a party.  There were sport socks, dress socks and everyday socks, all happy to tell their stories.  We all got along well and they never chided me for only having been worn once before loosing my mate....

 

That's it!  What becomes of this sock?  Does he ever find his mate?  Does he live in the drawer forever?  Hmmm.  I really don't know and it bugs my children.