Mismatched Socks Day!
Today without realizing it you’re going to leave the house in mismatched socks, one blue, the other brown and orange argyle. You won’t make it a few blocks without being beaten senseless by a gang of street children, but they won’t tell you it’s because of your socks. They’ll just shout “Freak!” and “Go back to New York!” and things.
You’ll go to the police station and tell them about the beating, but before you even approach the reception area the desk sergeant will have spotted your socks. He’ll listen to your story about the beating, but the socks will in his mind incriminate you for a string of murdered prostitutes they’ve been finding near the freeway. He’ll ask you to step behind the counter, but he won’t press too hard since he’s just a desk sergeant and won’t want to be the one you lose your mind on. You’ll walk free, for a short while until the APB is issued.
At work you’ll be demoted and the process of humiliating you to force you out will begin. “My God man do what’s right for the firm and resign,” the Chairman will say. You’ll go to a dark bar to drown your sorrows where the love of your life will introduce herself and say, “Sometimes a woman can look at a man and know. That’s what happened when I saw your hosiery.”
At that you’ll look down at your ankles and then back up at the woman and you’ll say, “You know me better than I know myself.”
Marry.
Happy Mismatched Socks Day!
