EVERYBOBY “loves” me and songs were even created in my honour, such as “Black Socks Never Get Washed” and people make sock puppets all the time, there’s even that old sock puppet dude that used to be on Much Music, everyone loved him for his saucy attitude ( that’s my cousin just so you know!). But also, everyone wears me and I don’t like it. I mean think about it, I have to go around people’s feet! Besides that, you people make me stink, yes, I am talking to you, gross young boy who thinks I’m your lucky sock, would it kill you to put me in the wash? Which isn’t a pleasant experience, but I suppose it beats being all gross of humanly fluids. I mean I'm only made of cotton and some spandex, I don’t work miracles! Oh, and people constantly seem to “loose” my other half. How do you “loose” half of me, what, are you blaming it on atmospheric phenomenon? It has to then go on a life all by itself and let me tell you, we HATE being alone.
Day after day people like you take me off after a long day, which is horrible because I’m cooped up all day. Then without even the slightest hint of remorse (or thanks) you toss me into the hamper! Rude much?! From there a whole other journey begins. I get squished by all the other disgraceful pieces of clothing. All of us smelly and unwanted, packed into that hamper until no more can fit and then...the wash! Words cannot describe the dreadful feeling of going from hot smelly feet to soap and water. Well I’ll try anyway, you feel sticky with bubbles (no not the fragrant bath kind) at least until the rinse cycle; and then it’s into the earthquake tumbler to dry. Then I am finally shown some tender loving care: folded and placed nicely in the basket. Ahhh, relief. This vacation, however, does not last long due to the fact that soon the people have exhausted all the rest of their sock piles, and must replenish them by returning to me. LUCKY ME.
Besides all this former action, is the wear and tear you people put me through. Most times, you put holes the size of Saskatchewan through me and then have the nerve to get angry at me, often mumbling not so appropriate words at me! Me?! YOU are the ones that think your feet are clubs and the ground is the big bad wolf!! So could you try being a little gentler to us socks, ‘cause my life stinks- literally.
Sock P. Stocking
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