Its Socks by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Its Socks

Page 1

Greg and the Interdimensional Sock Census

Greg was just a guy. A guy with two cats, a mild lactose intolerance, and a deep seated fear of responsibility. So when a shimmering portal opened in his bathroom mirror and a gelatinous being named Bureaucrat-7 declared, “You have been chosen for the Sacred Sock Census of the Multiverse,” Greg did what any reasonable person would do. He screamed, slipped on a bathmat, and knocked himself out with a bottle of shampoo labeled “For External Use Only.”

When he awoke, he was already halfway through the Sock Dimension, a realm composed entirely of mismatched socks, sentient lint, and judgmental laundry baskets. Bureaucrat-7 explained that every 7,000 years, one Earthling is selected to catalog the socks lost across all realities. Greg protested. Loudly. “I don’t even sort my own laundry! I wear flip-flops in winter!”

But the Sock Council was firm. They handed him the Census Wand, which looked suspiciously like a bent coat hanger, and a clipboard that screamed every time he tried to write “N/A.”

His first assignment was to interview the Sock Oracle, a wise old tube sock who had seen the rise and fall of civilizations and once dated a sandal. The Oracle spoke in riddles: