We can't bust heads like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell 'em stories that don't go anywhere - like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. Give me five bees for a quarter,you'd say. Now where were we? Oh yeah: the important thing was I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones...
So we all end up losing just one sock. It's not ever a surprise either. For some it's the left one that goes missing or for some it's the right one. They just completely vanish and we dance about looking for it. Completely destroying the place. But where do all the socks go you ask? It'll be quite a surprise. After all. We all can't be just having a bit of bad luck or lack of memory. Can we? Well. Don't you worry. It's quite magical in fact. It's true. We hear the words mutter all the time. "it's the faeries. It's the faeries. They took my sock. It was right at the end of my foot last night but now it's gone." But adults don't believe this. They'll come out with things like "you have just misplaced it" or "it'll turn up, them things always tend to turn up in the end" So this leads me to. Why do faeries want our one odd socks? Smelly, holily and rotten socks. Why would anyone want them? To have a contest. Of course. A contest. A contest to find the most horrible. The most grossest and unwashed socks. They go out. When no ones about. To grab just one sock. With a washing peg on their nose and tongs in their hands. Looking quite ridiculous. Careful not to be caught because it'll be quite embarrassing. So there's what happens to socks. But if anyone ever laughs at you and tells you faeries are not real. Just smile and remember. They don't want to be caught.
Wotan of the Piercing Eye, had ordered a golden statue of a woman named Ataile. At first sight, Wotan was aflamed by her lithe body and sculpted features. She was a warrior, with a talent for a spear, but had fallen in the carnage of the most recent fray. Her body and soul now belonged to the Walkure, whom he could never touch. So great was her talent that Wotan knew her fate had been marred by Frika as a purposeful slight to him. Wide ruling Wotan ordered Palberich to fashion a faithful image of her so true to form that Wotan could awaken it with a ring of her name. Palberich had more than some skill with gold, and his work had pleased Wotan before. He flew to the task, and over the course of a fortnight, he derived a shining form that threatened life itself. The cold metal appeared as soft flesh. The smooth lines of the muscle were supple as to feel as each could ripple at the touch. Her face was such as to make Froyja herself weep. Her hands, delicate and limber, could in a moment lose her spear to reach out in affection. Such was her grace that she could step off the pedestal and apart from her shining form, none would think that she was anyone but a goddess herself, but for one aspect; her feet. For all his skill, Palberich could not form her lissome feet. He could feel the svelte curve of the instep and the soft pads on which she would glide over the floor. He could see her ethereal toes and could imagine their dainty touch to the cold stone. But he could not form them. Wotan of the Scowling Brow, was enraged. How could his master craftsman not know the foot. This artist whose work had set brothers to murder each other, and had set off a cycle of wars for which even the songs of glory lasted weeks. Wotan's fury was uncontained and the skies themselves trembled and spat. All of Agurd felt his wroth and it was the Walkure and Ataile herself that came to him in supplication to forestall an apocalypse. In both fair punishment and as a lesson, Wotan transformed Palberich into that which would allow him to intimately study and inure himself to the foot. Wotan, king of all he surveyed, turned Palberich into a sock. As for the mystery of what happened to your sock, there really is none at all. His time spent on earth, his lesson learned, Palberich, goldsmith for the gods, was called home. Calm
BREAKING NEWS!! In a "socking" twist The much feared and highly sought after 'Washing Machine Beast' Has been Unmasked, The Beast has been the undoing of many millions of women (and some house trained husbands) Thoughout the years. A perfectly matching seeminly innocent pair of socks would be placed inside a washing machine but sometime between then and being placed in a dryer one would vanish... Never to be seen again. But A little after midnight last Night The Beasts need to "sock" Reached new heights when it creeped into a fair Maidens bedroom and stole the said sock fromThe still sound asleep young (see im trying to earn brownie points) Women. Wishing to seek revenge for the millions of socks left without thier partners this brave warrior set out to discover what had happened and to bring the battered bruised and abused socks home. Then it hit her!!!! It had been right infront of her all along The washing machine Beast was in fact........... Wait for it........ KOTFE!!! Using OSW as a ruse, It had the perfect cover up.Its Not stripped allies the KOTFE Lords crave But Socks , Innocent defenseless socks. Founded (so I was lead to belive) by one,Yes U guessed it Washing_Machine KOTFE 's 1000's of members and thier allies now do his evil bidding. The "socking" proof can be found in many a KOTFE clan room thats littered with the blooded remains of these sad pairless socks. So KOTFE Im begging U free these poor creatures and let them feel useful (and dirty) once again.It is not too late to recive help for your cravings and dark desires. Help is in fact only a phone call away.
Sorry. But this is not the case with MY sock because my feet are not smelly. I bath them and lotion them and paint them regularly. DQed.
Trying to call me young for brownie points? I'm 22. You calling me old? In other news, KOTFE, how could you!?? Releasing finalists in next post. I'll eliminate systematically.