“I know where all the missing socks go” he said barging into my room, clutching single socks of varying patterns and designs.

I reached for the light and left him in the dark, the rustling of sheets and gave him a “goodnight”

I was tired of his shenanigans, bursting into the room saying he’d found aliens, was digging a hole to the world below, finding a shadow government to order spies to do menial labour. And now… socks.

“N-no no this time it’s real, I found why and where all the socks go missing. Just come take a look” his voice heightened and grew more stumbling as he spoke. Desperation really creeped in.

“I just need to tell someone, and I only have 4 followers on my blog. If I tell them something else I think I might get reported”

“You already did get reported” I responded, mildly upset that I had spoke up at all.

“Ok yeah I did but I need to show someone who can actually see what I saw!”

“I’ll gouge your eyes if this is bullshit again” I huffed, clicking the light back on. To his slight smile. “Fuck you” I mumble under my breath.

Pulled into his shenanigans once again.

Getting up and out of bed, sliding on slippers and giving him a side eye as he smiled and fell back a little at my stare.

As I walk with him he begins to explain. “So, there’s these networks of tunnels all around the city, and these strange almost silk woven creatures. Right?”

“…sure”

“And- and they have tunnels in dark corners especially around the laundry room, so each time the laundry is done and dried it’s taken.”

“…”

“So you might wonder, ‘what do they use them for’ well, they use them as medicine, like a bandage but it gets absorbed into them”

I stop and look at him.

He opens the laundry room.

“Take a look” he tells me.

Waddling around the laundry room are silken living creatures using the laundry room like a business centre.

“Fuck you” I said less mumbled than before.

“Aren’t they great?”

“Where the hell are we going to do laundry? And what are these things?”

“They’re oklings, little creatures made from the worm and torn fibres of dead skin and fabric.”

“Ah yes of course that makes sense, oklings are naturally born fr- WHAT THE FUCK IS WEONG WITH YOU?!”

“They do the laundry for us, they only take a sock for all their work, and I’ve now set up a trade system”

“Can I trade you for anything else?”

“Give them a fabric of a certain size and they’ll give back valuables”

“So you’d be worthless, got it”

“Aren’t they fascinating?”

“Totally, I’m going back to bed, your sock people can live in the laundry room, but if they take any of my clothes I’m burning them” I say, walking out of the room, hoping to hop into bed and fall asleep.

Preferably to wake up to a laundry room not occupied by fabric cats and the insane roommate with me.

Fucking conspiracies…