The previous post is Dubstep Rave.
The next post is Thirty One.

What Happened To My Socks During Winter Break · Feb 23, 11:26 PM

One of the major problems with marriages in the nineties is the high rate of divorce among couples. But this has nothing to do with socks losing their counterparts.

I do not believe that a sock ever ‘loses’ its mate. There is a telepathic bond betwixt the two that can never be broken (Ommm). There is merely a mere physical separation, so I must assume that this should be the topic of this essay. So then…. to continue where I hadn’t left off:

setting: a small cafe in a small city just a few miles east of Distance, early morning sometime before the Birth of Christ.

characters: a number of minor people including (but not limited to) Innocent Stranger, Suspicious Character, Note, Boppy Waitress, Me, Moral, Sock (1), Sock (2), Literary Critic (read English Teacher for those in school), Random Chinese Emperor, and Small Mongolian Horde.

ACT I

[backdrop: Ancient China, atop The Great Wall, just outside of a rural Chinese village, in a 50’s looking diner (I suppose that’s really part of the setting… sorry). Random Chinese Emperor sits in full ceremonial dress drinking coffee and looking forlorn. Boppy waitress stands behind counter looking boppy. Small Mongolian Horde is seen approaching from Distance. Literary Critic is standing disapprovingly is the shadows, talking to Suspicious Character on a pay-phone.]

(Small Mongolian Horde is screaming and waving about swords (or culturally appropriate weapons) throughout the whole scene.

Literary Critic: (Suspicious Character) You know, I just can’t see how this can develop into anything relevant to socks, but I’d better blow this proverbial joint (?drug reference?) before the Small Mongolian Horde gets here.. bye.

(Literary Critic hangs up and exits through the back door just as the Small Mongolian Horde arrives and sits down next to Random Chinese Emperor. Random Chinese Emperor looks intently into his coffee, pretending not to see the new customer.)

Small Mongolian Horde: Say, Mr.—you aren’t by any toss of the bones Random Chinese Emperor, are you?

Random Chinese Emperor: What?!? NO!.. er, No. no Random Chinese Emperor here. I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Small Mongolian Horde: (noticing Random Chinese Emperor’s dress): You know, I just could but help to notice your dress, and, well, you look an awful lot like Random Chinese Emperor.

Random Chinese Emperor: No, I don’t.

Small Mongolian Horde: Yes, you do.

Random Chinese Emperor: Look, it’s not that I don’t like a good argument, but Random Chinese Emperor will always been seen with matching socks.

(Random Chinese Emperor pulls up his dress-thingy and shows the un-matching Sock (1).)

Small Mongolian Horde: (looking impressed) Oh… I see.

Random Chinese Emperor: Unless, however, he is pretending not to be Random Chinese Emperor.
(Small Mongolian Horde nods thoughtfully)

Random Chinese Emperor: (continuing) In that case he would have the real matching sock hidden underneath the fake un-matching one… like this…

(Random Chinese Emperor pulls up his dress-thingy again and shows how a real matching Sock (2) is hidden there.)

Small Mongolian Horde: (In agreement) Yes, I agree.

(A Thought occurs to Small Mongolian Horde. It takes up a look of blank amazement for a moment.)

Small Mongolian Horde: (slowly, as if what he is say is occurring to him as he says it) Wait a minute… if you have matching socks… hidden… then… (gasp) you’re Random Chinese Emperor!

(Small Mongolian Horde takes the weapons it has been previously waving around a bit and uses them to kill Random Chinese Emperor.)

THE END.

Innocent Stranger: Hey, what about me.. I haven’t said my lines er… doh. never mind.

Me: I suppose that goes for Me, too?

Moral: Don’t take too long to write pointless things, leaving little time for the real work, and forcing a hastened deux ex machina.

Note: This does appear to demonstrate what I believe happens to unmatched socks. They end up in wild places far away from where they started, doing weird things usually. But on the other hand this whole thing is pointless. Socks will biodegrade. We’re all going to die.

* * *

  1. Actually, this is what happens when I install Microsoft Word Viewer and look through some really old stuff I wrote back in 1997 or 1998.

    — Tom    Feb 23, 11:31 PM    #

Name
E-mail
http://
Message
  Textile Help