By Thing 2
Once upon a time there was a sock. This sock wasn’t a normal sock, rather a talking sock. One might question why a sock can talk, but one should stop asking why the sock can talk. It’s just an abnormal sock.
One day, when taking a walk, the sock stopped. Looking off into the distance, the sock spotted a dog. The dog was massive. It had big teeth, powerful paws and drool dripping down its large slobbery jaw.
The sock started to sweat. Why today of all days did the darn dog have to dally on over in the socks direction. The sock was next to a fence. It had nowhere to go. Looking around, the sock spotted a purple purse. It hurriedly ran across the pathway and popped itself into the purse.
Peeking out the purple purse’s pocket, the sock spotted the dog and slouched deeper into the purple safe haven.
Minutes passed before the sock stopped sweating and decided to sneak a peek out of the purple purse’s pocket. It peered out of the pocket and was relieved to see no dog in sight. The sock sprang out of the purse and, cautiously, continued on its stroll down by the creek.
All went well until the sock’s fuzz started to spike up on end. The sock stopped. Sucking in a sharp breath, the sock swung around and saw legs. Four legs. Swiveling its gaze upwards, it was met with a collar, upon which a dog tag read “Sweet pea”. Swallowing the lump that had built up in its throat, the sock looked up only to be met with the slobbery, massive muzzle that was the large dog.
‘This is it,’ thought the sock. ‘This is the end.’
The sock had to choose between fight, or flight. Attack or be attacked. So it did what any talking sock would do. It woke up and realized it wasn’t a sock, it was Stanley. God dammit Stan, stop sniffing the laundry detergent before bed.