The Truth About Cell Phones and Socks

This story, however innocent it may seem, is not for the faint of heart, even though our main characters happen to have barely started puberty.

It all started with the invention of the dryer, yes, the dryer. Parents have been telling us the disappearance of our socks is the dryer eating them. Unfortunately, dryers tend to be stupid, slow, and too lazy to even care why you're shoving clothes that the washer just peed on into their mouths. So, as you can plainly see (I hope), the dryer really could care less about your socks.

However, socks have both the motive and the desire to steal away in the night when the dryer is snoring so loudly, its tongue lolling around with those peed on clothes from the washer eventually tumbling dry, which no one even notices. At least, that was the theory our precocious gang had conjured. Their weekly meeting beneath the oak elm tree had gone wonderfully. They had stopped the cell phones from spreading their brain cancer in a diabolical attempt at world domination… or extinction. What? You didn't think those wackos just made up the story that cell phones give you brain cancer did you?

Anyway, the topic of their last discussion had been, drum roll please, the disappearance of so many socks. They had mourned the loss of one of their own that meeting. The youngest of their little group, Fernando, a tiny freshman barely initiated who had gone on a secret mission into the dryer and never come back.

"Poor Fernando," Greg had said at the beginning of the meeting, Stephanie and Tiffany muffling cries in the background. "He was a good member, however vertically challenged he may have been."

"But what about his mother?" Nick had asked. "She was found gagged with a sock but is being charged with murdering Fernando."

Greg looked away quickly.

That had been the end of the meeting, and everyone had gone home while the sun's last rays illuminated the way back. When Stephanie got home her little brother was excited beyond belief. It was laundry day, which meant that Stephanie folded the clothes and the little "sweetheart" played tackle the stack. Stephanie folded the clothes three times over before sending the boy to bed with her parents. As she lay in bed that night, her alarm clock flashing brightly beside her, she heard the door creak, but when she opened her eyes nothing was there. All of a sudden, her baby brother was standing by the bed.

"Stephanie," he said softly, "I can't sleep. My socks are talking too loud. Can I have a glass of juice?"

Immediately she dismissed it, until Stephanie went downstairs to get him a small glass of orange juice. It was true! The socks were having a meeting right in the middle of her living room. She picked up the phone and called everyone in the gang over, panic in her voice. She sent her brother back to bed before entering the living room, portable vacuum cleaner in hand.

"Die possessed outer garments!" Stephanie said as she flipped on the vacuum cleaner.

The leader of the socks shouted back, "Sacrifice is the only way!" At that moment five socks dived at her, more specifically at the vacuum cleaner. The leader said again, "Remember Pearl Harbor! Dive men, dive!"

Stephanie looked with terror as they inched closer, the flying socks clogging the vacuum cleaner and bleeding out white viscous material. Nick, with his sick mind, walked in, announcing his presence by saying, "I take it those were your brother's socks?"

Stephanie would've answered but a dying sock dove into her mouth. Her eyes went wide as it tried wriggle down her throat. Greg, who stood to Nick's right side, said loudly as a sock flew towards Nick's open mouth, "Another suicide socker! Duck!" But it was no use. They heard the apparent leader call for reinforcements, followed by the dryer's door slamming open, hundreds of socks pouring out. A lonely match to a rainbow colored toe sock scrambled to Greg's foot. Instantly, Greg's shoe burst open to reveal the match. "Hey! I was wondering where the other one went. What?" he asked defensively upon Nick's accusing look.

Tiffany screamed from behind the two boys. "Run! It's Tube Sock!" She hurried into the living room to get away from the giant sock slowly walking toward them from behind, mold growing around it and crusty flakes falling off of it every time it moved. The whole house shook as it walked, but the boys weren't even looking at it. They saw Tiffany trip over a pair of black socks not quite the same color the other. She was dragged into the dryer along with the gagging Stephanie.

Greg, completely oblivious to the fact that he and Nick were being carried into the dryer by evil socks, threw his other shoe off and grabbed up the depressed rainbow sock and began putting it on. The wriggling and fighting thing instantly went board straight and withered away, a foul odor of burnt clothing permeating Greg's nose. Nick looked over at Greg just as this happened. "Greg! You just figured out how to defeat them!"

Greg looked over at Nick, a confused expression upon his face.

They heard her yell ecstatically only moments later, "Fernando!" before they too were dragged down. Several hours later, when they finally reached the end of the long tunnel, the warrior socks, small and stupid ankle socks of varying color and thickness. By the time their backsides clonked on the hard cement bottom of the winding vents, their feet were two feet thick with layer upon layer of stinking socks.

The giant tube sock slid down slowly behind them. Nick and Greg turned around as he raised himself up to his full height, a towering foot. He reached up to their knees as he glowered at them. Nick began laughing hysterically. Greg elbowed him in the side, leaned down, and began tickling the sock beneath its chin. "Goochie goochie goo!"

The sock began shaking with indignation before calling out the troops to take them with the others. They were carried through the gates of a gigantic mansion and on through a huge hallway. The mob swirled about and underneath them, they being raised only six inches off the floor, as they traveled down the hall. Portraits of sexily clad thighs adorned the walls down either side, the stocking colors varying from white to beige to black.

Finally they came to a small door through which Nick and Greg were promptly shoved. The first thing the two noticed was the woman's black stocking propped upon the desk that would have been revealing a scantily clad thigh. The stocking addressed them in her sultry voice.

Tiffany spat the sock out of her mouth, Stephanie struggling with the same endeavor. Tiffany cried out happily, a semi-blank look upon her face, "I knew a woman had to be behind this!" She seemed so pleased with herself.

Greg turned to Nick, whose mouth was hanging open with thin streams of dribbling spit trailing down his chin. Nick just stared at the thigh. "I want to touch it!" He virtually ran over to the stocking and began pulling it down.

To everyone's amazement a ratty, faded red stocking emerged from underneath the silky disguise. It had a moldy smell to it, and looked as if no toys had ever been placed into it over the mantle. The faded red stocking, with its moldy white top, squealed loudly, tearing about the room until the entire house began to shake.

Suddenly the wall behind Tiffany and Stephanie began to vibrate violently, and you, dear reader, will never believe who burst through the wall. Proud Rudolf himself was first to kick through, Santa Claus and the rest his reindeer team soon following loudly. He steered his sleigh about and jumped out, his huge body landing smack dab on top of Stephanie.

"Ho ho ho! Sorry there young girl!" he said with a jovial laugh. Stephanie's fingers and leg twitched slightly but all attention was focused on Santa, who began moving towards the mad red stocking and its disguise.

"Ho ho ho! I know where you belong!" Santa said as he picked up the faded red stocking. He tossed into his sack, who promptly spit it back out. "Ho ho! Now, now, my faithful sack." He threw it back and the sack grudgingly accepted it, filling it with toys and such. Santa then turned towards the stocking's disguise.

All eyes in the room, except for Stephanie's of course, were focused on Santa Claus.

Now, I must warn you that the following is the worst of it all. The absolute worst thing you could possible dream.

Santa mumbled to himself with a gleam in his eye, "Mrs. Claus has been looking for you for some time." He held the disguise up before proceeding to kick off one boot, reveal a sock-less foot with wriggling toes, and slide the woman's stocking over his thigh. Well, at this point in our tale Nick turned to the side and threw up. Unfortunately, he had bad aim and hit the smushed Stephanie with the gross "liquid."

"Ho ho ho!" Santa said as he raised the other side of his over-garments to show the matching stocking. Nick, who had just recovered, bent over again. Greg was utterly speechless as Santa got back into his sleigh and rode away. The sock problem was solved, but they had no clue what to do now.

Tiffany asked curiously, a blank look again on her face, "Santa was wearing those to give them back to Mrs. Claus, right? Right? They weren't his, right?"

Greg looked over at her, his expression unchanging, "Right." Tiffany instantly smiled and started skipping over to Greg, preparing to celebrate their newest victory. She got to Stephanie and slipped on a liquid on the floor, of which you can decide what it was. Toppling down backward, she ended up face to face with the smashed Stephanie. "Hello, there Steph! You'll never guess what just happened…"