Socks, Part 2


In the dryer

The socks were tumbling through the hot air inside the dryer. As they flopped and dropped deliriously through the space, looking much like humans playing on a trampoline, they discussed their jobs.

“Gosh, I’d hate to be a gym sock!” exclaimed Barbie. “It would be awful to get all sweaty and icky!” Ken rolled his eyes in mock consternation.

“Hey!” exclaimed Sonny, “It makes me feel alive and used properly to be drenched in sweat!” He was short and thick, reinforced in all the right areas.

Cher made a sound that almost was derisive, but it was followed by an imperial half-smile. She was tall and thin, lengthier than any of them, because she was a motocross sock. Strangely, she and Sonny were frequently drawn to each other, perhaps by the static generated by the dryer, as their proper partners looked the other way.

Frilly Priscilla, her body surrounded by lace, gave her partner, Patty, a conspiratorial, superior look. They were the prettiest pair, and always got taken to parties.

As they tumbled, they poofed up. John, a long tubular men’s dress sock, brushed past the sheet of fabric softener. “Ohhhhhh!” he exclaimed with pleasure.

“Mmmmmm!” hummed his partner, Roy, and proceeded to slither by him on purpose.

“Ohhhhhhh, those two!” exclaimed Barney.

“Yeah,” smirked Fred, turning a somersault.

Tai and Randy were bedecked in perfectly matched fluffy white. Their job, it seemed was one of the easiest. It was to be soft and comfy, encasing tired human feet at the end of the day. “It’s hot in here!” they chorused, in perfect harmony, of course. They paused, looked at each other, then giggled. “That happens a lot!,” they said together again, then burst into gales of laughter.

Suddenly, the rolling drum came to an abrupt halt. The temperature had been dropping slightly the last few minutes but no one had paid much attention. The ride was over, along with the free-falling jubilation.

“Back to work!” exclaimed Fred, as they were scooped out of the dryer and into a waiting laundry basket. The fun was over, at least until next week!

Closeness in the laundry basket

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One thought on “Socks, Part 2

  1. Terry the Tumbler grumbled to himself. He never got to run alone. Someone was always forcing him to engorge socks, or towels or shirts before they let him take it for a spin. He would blow warmly on the occupants, whether he was happy about it or not. At least the stuff they filled him with was always clean. Sometimes, though, the items were kind of cold at first. After a while, though, everyone would warm up to him.

    After a while, he and they would tire and he would just stop, letting his riders fall on each other like in the photo above. He did hate it, though, when a sock would sneak out somehow during the spin, leaving him to take the blame for only disgorging the partner sock. What could he do?

    Just when he was warming up to his job, it would be over. Passersby could hear him ticking as he cooled down from the ride. When would anyone visit him again? Monday? Saturday? No, laundry day.

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