Hello. It’s me!!
On a random trip into the closet, I found this sock in one of the bins, so I selected it as a preferred chewie, eschewing the lovely stick sitting right in front of my face.
You see, pre-laundered socks have just the right combination of male foot sweat and embedded particles to really tempt the taste buds.
And I honestly don’t understand why Dad would sneak up on me and demand that I relinquish my newly found hosiery.
Then this happens.
Dad you ?$&# stop taking my sock … stop it … MINE!