I know where all the missing socks go.

When I created the dryer I took it from the gods they said to me

“You have done good but only at a price”

I didn’t feel scared but it was like a warm liquid was pouring on my skin it healed my scar

“ your drowning” I though to my self

“ every sock that is lost will be swept away int o a world of wonder

I know where all the missing socks go.

They go to a place we’re peace isn’t a concept it’s an everyday event. The birds that sings of sorrow will be joyful once more. Every sprinkle of star dust belongs to the person who catches it

I know where the missing socks go

Imagine a place where the road is smooth with cotton and polyester. lint makes up the trees.

But if you dare enter this world you will end up just like I did

I was a young women. I had just made my first million for creating the dryer.

This works of magic had haunted my dreams. One day I had enough

“Dang it!” As I tried to fit my self into the small compact dryer.

Swearing silently to my self I began the turning sequence.

Sweat beading down my forehead as the temperature began to rise. heat and spinning began to fog my mind with dizzying thoughts of death. My eyes fluttered closed as the bone shattering slaking of the dryer seemed to tell me to sleep.

I awoke in a bed of Cotton red bands of silly patterns on the walls surrounding me every thing was different a faint smell of sweat and chocolate always filled the air I had the time of my life. The first to days I spent in the dryer I had done so many things each night I collapsed onto my bed with out even removing my own socks.

When the time came to enter the dryer and return to a the real world I was permanently hooked onto the wonder of the dryer and never left I have no more value then a lost sock that had been forgotten

Never go where the missing socks are you might be lost.