Sock, Fear, Funny

3 things to inspire 1 story written in 20 minutes. #story320
words provided by @ladychap84

They’re gone! Again, they’re gone. How many socks can a man lose before it stops being funny.

I visit the laundromat once a week and every week another pair of socks disappear. At this point I feel the owners should post a sign:

“Laundry $5.00 plus a pair of socks, never the same pair, two socks, each from a different pair. Thank you, we appreciate your patronage.”


I’m not sure why they would be so polite, especially if they’re keeping everyone’s socks.

If I continue to lose a pair of socks each week, I will have gone through 52 pairs of socks. That’s like…a lot of money. I’d be more specific but who has time to memorize the price of socks? Maybe the person stealing them.

Maybe it’s someone’s side hustle. Maybe there is a guy taking my socks out to New York and laying them all out on a blanket in between bootleg DVD’s and “Koko” Chanel purses. When the cops come and the other guys grab the four corners of their blankets and dash, the sock guy just takes off his shirt and hangs it on the newspaper dispenser then pretends to fold socks.

How does he explain the mismatching pairs, you ask? Well, he doesn’t need to. He’s drying his socks and, officer, it’s really none of your business.

The washer beeps. I grab the wet load and stick it into the dryer.

That’s it! Maybe it’s the dryer. As it heats up and spins, it opens a portal to one of the levels in hell.

But wouldn’t socks burn off the feet of hell’s residents? What would be the point of socks in hell? Unless hell has froze over and socks keep their feet warm. Once your feet get cold, that’s it, there’s no getting warmed up again.

Oh shit! A dryer sheet! I reach down to my feet where I keep my quarters and pull a metallic George Washington from out of my sock. I offer it to my neighbor in exchange for a dryer sheet.

She says to just take one, no need for the quarter. I tuck George back into my sock and pull it back up, mid-calf. Calf? like cow? Anyway.

I open the dryer and pop in the sheet. static electricity be damned, like my sock thieves.

Just over an hour later, the laundry load is done. I pull out all the clothes and take inventory. All shirts present, all pants folded, underwear all accounted for, my favorite jacket here and–wow–all the socks are accounted for!

I plop everything into the basket and with a spring in my step, I decide to buy some bubble gum.

I put down the basket and reach for my quarters.

I feel nothing by my hairy ankle.

I look down and my socks are gone.

I look back at the dryer and a glow comes from within, fading from bright to deep red and disappearing altogether with a small sizzle and puff of smoke.

The horror.

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