The End?
And so, it came to pass that I reached a day when I did not wear any socks. A line had been crossed and the sock-wearing community was frankly disgusted. If not disgusted, then at least a little bemused. “Why did Socksoftheday not wear any socks on the day? The day was a day like any other day and a day should always involve socks, especially if your aim is to wear socks every day”. Friends, followers, enemies, lovers, all I can say is this: powers more frightening than myself (The Feet Liberation Army) have demanded freedom for their subjects. The fight will be long and the journey no doubt tortuous (I am currently negotiating a timeshare, one day on, one day off) but I hope to return at some point in the future, to a land filled with pleasant cotton comfiness, argyle pattern-ness and, who knows, hand-knittedness. We can dream, but until then, live the life your socks would have wanted …
Seriously, if the photographer can’t be bothered to take a picture that’s in focus, we’re just going to have to find a replacement.
Forget sunburn, these are positively nuclear! Stay away anyone not wearing a military-grade radiation suit.
“Your toenails, they will be the death of me” said my socks, if they could speak. (They can’t, obviously, or at least I’ve never heard them speak at the same time as someone else being in the room).
For goodness’ sake, can someone please have a word with the photographer, or stop his hands from shaking, or something?!?!
My socks have seen a light. An aura. A distant disturbance in our transient equilibrium, leading to happiness and fresh feet every day. They edge forward …
Yowser, sunburn! A tip for the kids … use factor 30, don’t use cooking oil.
July 16th 2012 was a dark day … but the blue socks stood firm and penetrated the gloom with resolve, fortitude and a 100% cotton attitude.
