On Socks, Bipedism, Flirtations, the Animation of Inanimate Objects, and Bloodlust

Good evening, my friends. I say this because it is the evening. There have been many strange happenings of late, the epitome of which involves none other than my left sock. As a biped, my primary means of locomotion consists of walking. Some cyborg-bipeds have forsaken such in favor of the locomotive, but I do not get out much. Instead I say to Out, "Come to me," and it obeys. Thus I bring that which is without within, and I grow ever stronger for it.

At this time I shall speak of my socks. Having two feet (for I am a biped), I wear two socks; that is one sock for each of my feet. If violence had driven me to possess a wooden leg, then I would wear only one sock, and I would be a uniped, having only one foot, unless of course my wooden leg would have a foot carved on its end, in which case I might choose to obscure the fact that my leg is made of wood by wearing two socks. Then I would be a pseudo-biped. I would do no such thing; however, for a wooden peg leg is far more fashionable!

On the subject of fashion, I once read in a book that it behooves the females among us to compliment the socks of the males in order to make more effective flirtations. I heartily agree. Imagine it:
"Is that...argyle there?"
"Indeed, it is."
"There is nothing more attractive than an argyle pattern on a man's socks."
My own socks do not make use of patterns, but they do make use of at least several fine colors: blue, another shade of blue, yet another shade of blue, gray, and on special occasions black. Oh yes, and white for sport, but I do not engage in a great deal of sport. All the same, I think that my colors stand up just fine next to argyle.

Now lately, as I have walked about (as I earlier explained that I do), a bizarre phenomenon has been producing sensations of discomfort on my left foot. Upon returning to my dwelling, I investigated the matter to find that, despite my distinct recollection of properly applying the offending sock to the aforesaid foot in the morning, it had managed to become upside down. For those who are not aware, upside down is not generally the way things ought to be. Thus I remedied the ailment (of course it was an ailment!) and proceeded about my business. Later on, when I was obliged to go out once again, my troubles returned, for when I entered my dwelling upon the conclusion of this business (luncheon), I found that the same sock had committed the same offense once more. This had been twice in one day, you see. This has caused me great distress, for my garments have never betrayed me before.

What if...what if other garments would begin mysteriously move about as I walk about? Could I one day find my pants on backwards or my coat inside my shirt? And what if my clothing acquires a taste for human flesh, a possibility that has not gone without consideration before? Let us pray that none of these things come to pass.