Okay so this isn’t exactly a new story- and for that I don’t apologize- but it is an enjoyable one! This originally came from a post I wrote on an earlier website before investing all of my time into ABKstories. The website didn’t give me what I wanted from it and I have still not found a reason to continue that project. That said there is still a prompt video at the bottom of this post and it’s all about GOBLINS! So please take the time, write me a story!
Now for the next few paragraphs I’m going to be completely serious; I feel you deserve that at least. We’ve all heard about the nuisance of Underwear Gnomes and the terrible weed growers: the Garden Gnomes. But I feel we need to talk about a real and greater threat to humanity that no one has really heard of. This an issue that has troubled me for about 20 years now, and I have found no resolution. I’m talking of course about my ongoing feud with the Sock Goblins.
Let me catch you up a bit. You see throughout my life I could argue with conviction that I have worn matching socks less than 100 times. That’s roughly 24 years of mismatched feet holders. My mother chalked this up as the sign of a creative mind, or just a simple trait that runs in the family since my cousin was always one who never wears two shoes that were the same color.
She said this and other things in effect giving me an excellent excuse to explain away the horrors I was enduring. I could brush off comments with ease :”Oh? I never match my socks? It’s totally a choice and I’m not hiding anything.” And so, my parents never knew, never really suspected why it was that I wouldn’t match my socks unless a pair of matching socks was provided for me.
In the philosophy of my life, one must accept that which is out of one’s own control. Essentially I believe and have believed, that one must make due with the tools at hand. “Surely,” you might ask, “your parents must have bought you pairs of matching socks?” And you’d be correct to be baffled by this, in fact my parents were exceptionally good at getting me sock sets; they were better in fact than many parents, but this changes nothing.
I don’t know when it was exactly that I angered the Sock Goblin tribe that has followed and tormented me for well over two decades; I suspect it could be anything from eating too many cookies to not eating enough brownies (an odd but true test of character among their people), but they to this day have not forgiven me.
Generally my socks would be lost during naps or bed time, when they strike. Their first attacks came any time a blanket was draped over my body, when their elaborate thievery would go completely unseen by adult eyes. I would wake to find one or both of my socks missing, usually one would be left just hanging by the toe as a warning.
Anyone who has seen me sleep knows that I have learned not to sleep with socks on, preferring to weather the cold to the thought of a tribe of sock-thieves crawling all over me at night. I have thus endured cold feet for fifteen years. In fact any time I lay in a bed with socks on I still fear the inevitable arrival of a sock-goblin patrol. I often feel powerless to defend my feet scarves from their grimy hands.
This has led me into doing some crazy rituals. You see, they have caught on that I won’t let them just have my socks anymore. So they’ve taken to drastic military measures to ensure my compliance with their laws. These evil bastards have begun to literally tear holes in my socks. I don’t know how they do it, I still don’t quite understand why, but they do it, and I wear these socks because I have nothing else left to wear. Every so often a sock goes missing, or has a hole, and I have had no choice but to live with the loss. It isn’t just the loss, but the constant jibes from others, those who don’t understand my struggles. “You need new socks,” they say, “Why didn’t you buy new socks?” they say.
I mean what would you do if you were being terrorized by tiny creatures that sneak around and take your foot-puppets away? I imagine most would go insane. But I have held strong for generations of their peoples. And I tell you: they are getting smarter and bolder.
In recent months a small contingency of sock-imps have took it upon themselves to to shrink an entire set of my socks, causing me to put holes in them. Think about that, a whole set of matching socks, completely turned into little more than half their size such that the tribe let me do the self defeating work of tearing the threads! There were at least six or seven pairs in that bundle! I held onto them for as long as I could, but mysteriously, as if taken by some small group of goblin raiders, each shrunken sock disappeared one at a time.
I imagine they became vests or hats for the tiny hoof bandits.
And to make matters worse, they’ve started to take my socks from right off the floor, a place once deemed a no man’s land in our feud! It is an absolute outrage as I’m sure you can admit, but for me it is no longer acceptable. I have lived far too long in fear of these tiny devils.
And so I will now admit the TRUE reasons for why I have studied Chinese for so many years: to learn the sacred and ancient art of Sock-fu!
This most noble of Martial Arts has protected me from many goblin raids, imagined flying wingfats, and of course, from unwanted pillow fights with Moose. I implore you to take up this most ancient tradition at the Great Temple of 袜子 (Wazi). There, like me, so many you will find the great comfort and freedom in matching socks while studying the most powerful sock-based martial art in existence.
I am calling on you, all of you, aid me in this journey to release our people from the shackles of these thieves, these monsters of vile proportions!
With your help all of our socks will remain forever matching and free, or unmatching but free from holes! These are some of the greatest treasures in life, and I implore you to take up the gauntlet.
We will defeet this menace!
No but seriously my socks go missing a lot and that is the real reason I rarely wear matching socks.