A moment of silence, please, to honor the billions of socks lost in service to their owners. Lost. Who can say? Cast aside. Jilted. Whatever. It’s a disgrace how carelessly we treat socks in this world.
You find these once fluffy companions flattened and moldering in parking lots, plastered against washer drums in laundromats, balled up in Lost and Found collections from sea to shining sea. Are we really that cold-hearted, that uncaring? Have we completely lost our humanity?
Socks belong on our feet, not on missing posters. Keep a closer eye on them, ladies and gentlemen. They’re sneaky, furtive little bastards. Come on, would you want to spend your day stuffed inside a hot, sweaty shoe? Of course not. First chance they get, they’re gone.
So count them on laundry day. Stop leaving them in hotel and locker rooms. They’re not smart, they won’t find their way home. When one does turn up missing, and one will sooner or later, launch a search party. Rustle up a posse. Track that thing down.
Put an end to these senseless disappearances. We have sock drawers for a reason, remember?
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