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“Why are you doing this to me??”

The wail comes at me just as I am trying to take my first sip of coffee. I have no idea what I have done now, but I’m rather sure it is some profound horror, perhaps feeding a homework paper to the dog or super gluing the lid to the toilet seat down….

“You have stolen my socks!”

Ah yes, that. I had forgotten about that on account of the fact that I am usually busy stalking false prophets or relentlessly harassing corrupt congresscritters on the internet. It is only in my weaker moments that I seek such a soft target as you…

“Why can you not just put my things where they belong?!”

Well, mostly because they tell me you are a visual child, meaning anything not heaped in a pile in plain view has now ceased to exist in your universe…..Also, I stopped looking after your things about 3 years ago when you fired me due to my apparent incompetence.


Wait, don’t tell me, you have now stepped on something with your bare feet, the same bare feet I have caused by hiding your socks? Oh my, is it the box of thumbtacks you left on the bathroom floor under the pile of dirty laundry, the same tacks I asked you 3 times to pick up last night so no elderly people around here would be compelled to break a hip? Karmedic justice indeed….comical….

Hold on, surely such entertainment requires a second cup of coffee…

Okay I am back with the band aids. No, you are not dying. There is very little blood and I rather dutifully got you a tetanus shot already, so unfortunately no chance of developing lock-jaw, either.

I have paid the price of such carelessness so many times, I have finally resorted to wearing combat boots around the house. You should consider this safety measure. If you wish to run around barefoot outdoors, that is fine, just don’t ever try it in this house.

“Where are my socks??”

Such accusation! Such resentment and outright hatred in your eyes. Surely you realize that if I wished to torment you I am capable of inflicting far greater misery then you can even imagine? Do you not even know your own mother??!

Oh the things I could do, slow dripping faucets left on all night, no pop tarts in the cupboard, nothing in the fridge but four empty milk cartoons, sticky messes laying about delicately draped with a paper towel, as if out of sight really is out of mind, gone in an instant, problem solved….

Why, I could hide thumbtacks under dirty clothes, distribute marbles and barbie shoes strategically about the floor, fill my pockets with bubble gum and toss my things carelessly in the dryer melting everything with a purple crayon into a massive clump of sticky goo….

I could sit about the house shrieking relentlessly about this drama or that drama, angst ridden, melodramatic, self absorbed…

I could then clone myself, invite over 8 or 9 other angst ridden and drama driven strays, needing dinner…..while also demanding to know, why is there never enough food in this house anyway? Where does it all go??

You, if I wished to truly torment you, I would simply become you…..

“My socks? Hello! Why do you never listen to me?”

You demand this answer rather impatiently, without compassion, having no awareness of how difficult it is to be an evil minion always plotting and conspiring assorted torments to use against people. Do you not understand how much thought must go into these things?  Cruelty does not just manifest its own self you know!

“Oh, I have finally found them! Thank you!”

But. I. Did. Not. Hide. Them…. I did not even try to find them, either! In fact, I do not even seem to be having this conversation at all. You are having this conversation all by yourself. I am not even here, not really….

Someday perhaps you will have the eyes to see, but for a season I am to be rendered invisible, wraith like, inconveniently lurking about this house, an annoyance really,  seeking only to gleefully harvest people’s socks….