Single socks are good for nothing (image: wikipedia)

Dear Sock Monster,

Hi. We both know you’re not going to read this. Either because you don’t exist, or you’re too busy munching all my socks.

I’ll get to the point, then. I’m pissed at you. I’ve just finished a load and realised you’ve stolen my expensive, designer sock. I only had the one pair, you know. How am I going to impress my date with classy taste? If I don’t get laid tomorrow night, I blame you entirely. And don’t tell me I’m out of my league.

I’ve had enough of your erratic behaviour. I’ve got so many single socks, I almost believed the leftovers were mating and producing one-of-a-kind offspring. Almost. But I know it was you.

I tried to fool you by buying all the same socks. Ha! But I’m still always left with an odd number. Why couldn’t you just leave it alone? I bet your childhood was real twisted.

Ok, I’m sorry, that was mean. But, can’t you satisfy your sadistic sock fantasies on the old and hole-y ones? Or at least, any of the ones that my deranged ex-lover keeps leaving here to give him an excuse to come back? Given what happened the last time, I thought you’d be the first one to want to get rid of him. That is, if you live in the washing machine.

All I’m asking for is a bit of respect. There are many children in the world who don’t even have a single sock to wear. And by my count, you’ve got at least 19. That’s just greedy. Think of the children.

I give you three days before I call the police. Or a lawyer. Or at least my mum.

Whatever. I know where you live.

P.S. I know it was you who ripped that hole in my sweater.