A moment of silence, please, to honor the billions of socks lost in service to our feet. Lost? Who can say? Cast aside. Jilted. Whatever. It’s a disgrace how carelessly we treat socks in this world.
You’ll 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 close eye on them, ladies and gentlemen. Spending a lifetime stuffed in a hot, sweaty shoe isn’t a great gig, so they plot escape. And they’re wily bastards, cunning little shape-shifters. When opportunity knocks, adios — 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 bad boy down.
Let’s bring an end to these senseless disappearances. Remember sock drawers? They exist for a reason. Put a lock on it, maybe a motion detector. Drastic measures are necessary. Thank you for your cooperation.