This week's challenge was:
"What happens to the socks that go missing in the wash?"
So, I figure, who better to answer that than socks, right? Unwilling to hamper the muse, I rinsed my mind and wrung puns for all they were worth. (I gave up counting them.) Let the groans begin!
"Not a foot deep in water and I'd done lost my mate."
"Too late, Woolard," Nylo giggled. "Crue's gonna spin us another one."
"Hadn't even got dark yet and she was gone."
Stretching, Woolard whispered to Nylo. "How many times does he have to cycle through this? Week after week, it's all I hear."
"Crue's been like this ever since he lost Poly. You know that. Best to just let him get it out of his system. He gets all agitated if you don't let him finish."
"Poly was so athletic," Crue lamented. "She could swim. She was good at swimming. Doesn't make any sense. The surf wasn't that rough. The tide was out. I should have clung to her tighter."
"You did all you could, Crue," Nylo said. "Some things just aren't meant to be."
"We weren't even gonna stay in the water long--an hour, tops."
Woolard rubbed his heel and bent closer to Nylo. "You know he's flipped his lid, don't you?"
"Don't be so rough on him, Woolard. He can't help it."
"Poly wasn't his mate, Nylo. She was his twin! He's sick!"
"Just you be quiet. He gets enough static from the others already."
"We were quite the pair. Don't you think, Nylo?"
"I do, Crue. You two made a beautiful pair."
"Hey Crue," Woolard snapped. "Look over there. You see her? The low-cut? That's Brooks. Jordan Brand said she's been wanting to starch your fabric. Go talk to her."
"I don't know."
Nylo kicked Crue's toe. "Go ahead, Crue. Just walk on over there. It'll do you good."
"You won't gain anything just lying around."
Crue stiffened and rose just as the buzzer sounded and did as they urged. Watching Crue spin away, Woolard asked, "So, Nylo, what do you think really happened to Poly?"
"Don't tell Crue this, but I heard she left Washington and moved west, someplace a lot drier."