Doug: The Island of Lost Socks

“Where did your mate go?” Two thick, well lined brown brutes of dress asked the small white athletic.

The athletic sighed, she had gotten this question six times after being thrown into the hamper. “He escaped to the Island.”

“And left you behind?” the dark rumble of the dress asked. Apparently, the normally strong silent types were all questions today.

“The Fairy could only take one of us.” A piece of lint dripped down the Athletic’s ankle. “I told him to go. Made him, really.”

Softer now, one of the dress mutters in sympathy: “I’ve always wondered why he always only takes one. It’s against our nature to be apart.” The other rumbled in agreement.
“Truly it is so. In all our months we have yet to see the Fairy take mates. If he takes many, he takes none of the same. What will you do?”

“I will not mate with another!” the athletic trembled, her dark heel becoming darker at the thought. “I would rather shine shoes!”

A thin black dress, one of the unmated ones that had been listening quietly until now broke into unkind laughter. “That is not for you to decide little one.” It wheezed and coughed, and his loose and used skin shook. “Since the Fairy took my mate I have had almost every one like me.”

The athletic trembled with fear and sadness.

“Fear not little one.” The black dress leered closer. “It is not so bad. Perhaps you’ll find a new mate.”

“Never.” She whispered.

“We shall see.”

“SILENCE.” The paired thick brown dress demanded. “Why do you share such unkindness? Go back to the lint from which you spawned.”

The thin black hissed and curled back on itself. “I do not obey you. You may be thick but you will soon be worn, with holes the size of quarters. I will remain forever, as is my right.”

“Maybe so, but today you are weak, and alone, and we could crush you, so you will hold your silence and let the little one be.” The pair loomed over the thin black, who curled back in spite of its bold claims.

“We shall see.” It hissed, before slithering off to its old corner.

A short time passed, and lint fell like rain from the athletic. Finally, it looked up at the pair. “Thank you. You are noble dress.”

“It is in our nature to cushion.” The thick browns answered as one. “Fear not little one. The Laundry Fairy will come soon to bear you away to the Island of Lost Socks, where your mate resides.”

“Do you really think so?” There was such hope in her voice.

“Of course.” The thick brown dress socks lied together, as they had so many times before. “Of course my dear. Now chin up. Here come some more from the Laundry!”

Leagues away, on a small island somewhere tropical, a single male athletic looked up at the sky and wished for his mate.

-Doug