Socks are like people, THEY LIKE TO MATE… They’re sometimes gay and sometimes straight, their soul purpose in life is to conjugate.
They get tossed into the hamper like washed up whores, taken from the comfort of the sock drawer shores.
And what about their marriage? WELL THAT’S GONE TO SHIT! The hamper quite readily encourages the split.
And the hamper gets squishy and stinky too. Some of those underpants smell like poo. The socks become lethargic and sorta Blue. They miss their lover. THEY MISS THEIR SHOE.
But then comes the day of the BIG BUBBLE WASH! Where each and every sock will soon feel posh.
For their brain gets erased, their thoughts replaced, and their morals and ethics completely displaced.
Cuz now the bubbles are all around, the party’s in town, sluts and singles, abundance abound.
So the BIG BUBBLE WASH is more like an orgy, which some socks presume was started by Georgie.
You see Georgie’s always been kind of a boob, always talkin’ smack about THE SIZE OF HIS TUBE. Everyone has one in their drawer, and if it’s not there, just look on the floor.
The spin cycle is finished and the socks are still damp, stuck on the wall with a two-bit tramp. Others endure the crotch like a champ, while one is forced to intertwine with a vamp.
Next comes the dryer, where the magic occurs. This is where you get THE SOCK ENTREPRENEURS. Promoting hedonist trips, both HIS and HERS, while the lame work socks naturally become fucking saboteurs.
Some socks go back to Sock Drawer Shore, while others (like Georgie) lay used up on the floor. But the luckiest socks can’t be found anymore.
Because they’re at the hedonist sock resort with a fun-loving whore.