QOD: Where’s my other sock?

Someone stole my sock.

No, I didn’t lose it. It wasn’t the sort of sock to get lost. I even left it in the park one day and it found its way home. Anyway, the sock knows my telephone number and always carries loose change in the toe. If he was able to, he would have called.

No, he didn’t run away. First of all, he NEVER would have left his mate, at least not voluntarily. They’ve been together forever, and I’ve never heard them quarreling even once. Secondly, I give my socks a damn good life, and I’ve always invited them to let me know if they needed or wanted anything else. He asked me to change detergents once and I did, even though I’d just bought a huge box. I gave it to my Aunt Edna.

No, I don’t think someone took it by mistake. There’s only four or five apartments that even use those machines. None of them are sock thieves, although they’ve got a nice collection of bad habits between them. Anyway, my sock would have had no trouble at all coming home if he was only carried over to the neighbor’s.

Did I see what? Any strangers? Hmm. Not that I remember outright. Of course, I did notice that Mrs. Edelbaum got a new bra. It’s blue. I guess that’s pretty strange when you think about it. What? Yes, Edelbaum, with an ‘e.’

Where did I get the socks? Oh, golly, it’s been years and years… I think I got them for the winter solstice…no, for my birthday. That’s it. Aunt Edna always said I was a darn good chaperone for underwear.

Lila George. No, I swear: that’s my name. Middle name? Ellen. Well don’t have a spaz attack. Come on, now. The FBI? ‘E’s, huh. Right. You know, maybe I’ll just run home and have a quick check around the apartment again.

Well, no. He never was one for hide and seek. My pink panties love that, but she always pops up when I do that “Olly olly oxen free-oh.” What the hell does that mean, anyway? Okay, okay. You don’t have to get nasty about it.

Oh, let’s see. I guess he spent most of his time sitting in the window, especially at night. Called it communing with the stars. Daytime…well, he loved going into the office with me. Sure, sometimes I took him off and let him warm up next to the computer. His mate liked to play with the wires under the desk. That’s fairly normal, isn’t it?

Boxer shorts? You have an APB out on some boxer shorts? Heck no, what kind of a girl do you think I am? There has absolutely never been a pair of boxers in my apartment. I’d never date someone who wore them. I prefer briefs. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, I say.

Hmm. No one’s said anything about dating someone new. Of course, Mrs. Edelbaum has that blue bra. Now that I think about it, she was having a hell of a time with it in the laundry room. Static cling, she said, but I thought it was pretty severe just to be static cling. Still, I don’t see…

Of course I lock my door. Windows? Mmm. Probably not the one overlooking the garden. My sock liked a bit of fresh air most nights.

Oh please. You’re saying a pair of boxers could navigate that rose garden without getting snagged? My sock would have pitched a fit, anyway. He wasn’t one to go off tamely with a strange pair of shorts. We’d have heard him. His mate would have, at least. Not a thing, no. She’s been weepy all morning, poor thing.

Telepathy? I absolutely will not believe any pair of shorts has the slightest telepathic ability. Hats do, of course, which is why I refuse to wear one. Those things can muddle your thoughts until you don’t know which way is up. What? Oh, you think some hat is in league with the shorts. Huh. I’ve never heard of any hat consorting with underwear. It’s like they’re unmentionables or something.

All right, all right. I’ll go home and wait. But if I don’t hear from you by this evening, I’ll be back, and I won’t be as demure as I’ve been today, believe me. My socks count on me and I’m not going to let them down. What? Of course not. If he’s hurt or he’s lost his memory or something, we’ll nurse him back to health. As a matter of fact, if you find any other damaged underwear nobody wants, you can send them along to us as well. I can’t stand the way some people toss them out just because they’re a bit worn or getting old. Damn straight. A lot of people don’t even listen to their underwear. It’s pathetic.

Oh gosh, I don’t know. I’d have to think about that. I’ve never had to rehabilitate underwear that’s gone bad. I’m not really, uh, into boxers, either. Like I said, I never even had a pair in my apartment before. Maybe, though. As long as you know the hat’s clearly the ringleader. Oh sure, I heard that boxers are a bit scatter-brained. I guess they’d be a prime target for a clever hat. So, as long as my sock hasn’t been so traumatized that he can’t stand the sight of that particular pair of boxer shorts, I’d be glad to take them in. A couple of my bras have been complaining lately about being bored. It’ll be a nice change for them.

Okay. I’m expecting to hear from you. I WILL be back if I don’t.