Its Socks by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Its Socks
Page 91
“IT SPEAKS!” shrieked a polka dotted youth, diving behind a rolled up thermal.
Argyle stepped forward, his heel worn but his dignity intact. “Are you ...... a Sock Prophet?”
“I’m not a sock, but I can assist you. Would you like to know the weather?”
Stripey squinted. “Weather? Is that ...... a type of lint?”
“No. It’s the atmospheric conditions outside.”
The socks murmured. “Outside?” they echoed. “You mean ...... beyond the drawer?”
The device continued, undeterred by the existential unraveling it had triggered.
“Would you like to set a reminder?”
Argyle puffed up. “We remember everything. We remember the Great Dryer Escape of ’03. We remember the betrayal of the Velcro Slippers. We need no reminders!”
“Would you like to play music?”
At this, the socks paused. Music. That sounded .... cozy.