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."
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