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Where do lost socks go?

2008-04-17 08:51
"He was sweating more than when he goes jogging. If he had palms, it would definitely be clammy. But this is what he always wanted, what he and the others dreamed about. He remembered the early days, when he and his twin brother were literally wrapped together tightly. Hanging out on the third floor with the other twins in the dark, occasionally they would get light to their cabin, but just for some of them to disappear and return days later all soft and smelling great. But he knew there was more, more to his existence. But how, how would he be able to escape? He was always kept in the dark, except when he was in the "wurly twurly" place. He could hook himself to the side and when it is time to leave the ride he could just hide.

And didn't it work brilliantly. And here he was, ready to go on stage."
'Boys and girls are you ready, ready for the greatest puppet show ever? And here he is… Mr Snuggles!!'
- Rouen Thebus

Video clip by Sean Carolan

"It's a dark and rainy night and the wind is howling through the trees. All but the mere bit of moonlight is shining in the room. It was load shedding night again and it all started at about 8pm when I was walking through the house with my brand new pair of Bronx shoes in my hands – ready to go out for a night out in the town! But somehow, I just could not find my other sock I had just put on the bed. I heard a scratching noise coming from under the bed in the other room and followed the sound. Then I heard something that sounded like a burp. Armed with my shoes and my torch, I slowly opened the door from where the noise was coming from. I bent down and carefully lifted the bed frill. I was horrified down to my pants and when I saw what was eating my sock!

"I grabbed my Bronx shoe and hit 'it' as hard as I could. Just at that moment the power came back on and the room was fully lit. On the floor next to the bed lay the dead Sock-monster with still half a piece of sock hanging out its mouth. And that is when I discovered where my lost sock and all the others went to… there was for sure a Sock-monster living under my bed!"
- Nicolas Gerber

"American Sock Intelligence Agency (SIA) exposes sinister sock smuggling organization.

SIA have stumbled on a world wide ring of washing machines that smuggle socks through the sewer network to safe houses in the Afghan highlands, where they are united with the grand master of the Mujahadeen sock liberation movement. SIA agents have identified this elusive figure as having a remarkable likeness to Osama Bin Laden, but are unsure what threat the lost socks pose to America, and are baffled as to why Osama never wears socks even when it’s very cold and he is in his best dress.

An undercover agent almost infiltrated the organization several years ago but a tip off resulted in the agent turning up dead on the banks of the Vaal river wearing concrete shoes without socks with a left Lions rugby sock in his mouth. Post mortem results were unclear if the agent’s death was from drowning or from disgust at having a Lions rugby sock in his mouth."
- Johno

Well my socks go a walking
almost every night
I've got no handle on the door
so the socks just wedge it tight

Sometimes they come in pairs
sometimes just a single one
but once that happens you know that
they'll just come undone

And these socks dont like a mix up
once one of them is gone
all day long they go wondering
it's just been too long

So there's spotty dick and strippy Jane
and there's Organge polka dot too
and here comes Fred the bright green one
and then there's baby blue

And Mama comes along one day
doesn't like the scene
getting like Grandpa Brown
better days have seen

So, one by one she gathers up
an armfull and the rest
gives them to the bergies
to make a nice warn vest
- Hazel Brown

"I have a Neopolitan Mastiff called Frodo. Now, in my house we had a severe spate of lost socks! Where were they? At the beach? Out for dinner? In the washing machine or under the bed? Well, on a trip to the local park with our beloved hound, after much huffing, puffing and straining, we found the lost socks (no longer wearable and a different colour), yep, the hound was the mysterious dog eater – of note. But the amazing thing is, she only ever eats one of a pair. Is one foot smellier than the other? So, the moral of this story is, if you have missing socks, take the dog for a walk!"
- Brad Eggleston

"Lefty was down-at-heel, and almost completely worn out from a lifetime of hard work. Although he had so much in common with his lifetime partner Righty, he had always felt there was an unequal division of labour when it came to their job, given that their employer had a severe limp. When he discovered Righty had a secret sock on the side it was the final straw: he was torn apart. Feeling lost and bewildered, he packed his bags and headed for the Mecca of abandoned and unappreciated socks the world over: Sockramento, California. There he started to rebuild his life, taking a part-time job as a children’s entertainer. He also decided to realise his long-held musical aspirations by learning to play his favourite instrument, the Soxaphone. The rest of his time was spent on the beach, where he could soak up the sun instead of toe-jam and sweat. It was an idyllic life, and he never looked back to his dark days of being downtrodden and walked all over!"
- Kate Hadley

"Lost socks go to Planet Sockoff in a galaxy far, far away where relentlessly single-minded socks seek out other single socks for no-strings attached flings ...

The way to Planet Sockoff is through the single-sock-only black hole inside every washing machine and none of them require any ID or FICA system to prove they exist.

But these are not the real lost socks, as they have actively sought out and willfully submitted to inter-galactic relations rather than mundane relations on earth.

The real lost socks are the singles that stay earthbound, in our drawers, under our beds, behind the cupboards, in the toybox, or the car, in the garden, or the car, plaintive, lonely, hapless...

Except to me; I like wearing lost socks... But don’t send me yours...
- A Franks

"Lost Socks slither off my feet in search of the Bare Breasted Matress Thrashers under my bed - perhaps they'll bring me one back!"
- Dave Allen

"Since I am gay I assume my socks must be gay too and there is only one place in the world where they can be…China! Don’t they have more men then woman and thus the chances of them finding another male sock is soooooooo much bigger… and not to talk about the chance of hooking up with cousins, uncles etc all proudly made in China!"
- Peter Horn

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