Sockopoia

Sockopia


         Lest ye yourself be such the rarest of rarities, being that of an individual who has himself inadvertently witnessed the same inexplicable incident that I myself beheld quite bewilderingly on one such surreal occasion, rightly then am I to thereby assumingly ascertain that, ye be instead, a much more ordinary earthly orderly whom, thanks to his or her naturally naive mind, has unknowingly been bewitched; beguiled, that is, by certain seemingly simple objects which, as it turns out, aren’t actually so apparently unassuming after all.  Case in point, whilst retrieving a single sock from a local laundromat dryer, I, Jaffy St. Claire - a most unlikely hero - stumbled upon the one and only permanent cure for cancer…


Chapter One

         My name is Jaffy St. Claire.  According to both peculiar parents of mine, no other name could possibly be more fitting, arguing that a rose, by an other name, could never smell as sweet.  In the minds of the ever-more popular populous however, the cruel consensus stands steadfastly decided, deeming such strange name to be as awfully awkward as it is absurdly abnormal.  Personally, it bothers me not what others might think, especially of something so trivial as nomenclature.  Nay, for I believe that a name, be it handsome, hideous or otherwise, is more or less meaningless until its owner has all but lived and died, leaving in his or her waterless wake a history that is - perhaps - worth recounting to those who might actually give a damn.  As such, I shall like to state yet once again that, Jaffy St. Claire is indeed my name, and the following is a story of how I, a sickly-thin dying young man, became the greatest hero this World has never seen.
         
         As Fate would have it, my rise to greatness began on the one day of the week I dread the most…laundry day.  I’ll not discuss in detail why such a seemingly stress free day tirelessly torments me so, only to say that I’d much rather receive my regular dosing of chemotherapy than face the mindless madness meandering about the only local laundromat (of which I am unfortunately forced to utilize) within walking distance of my not-so fabled flat.  Nevertheless, on this the day in question, there I did stand in the exact loathsome laundromat, tolerating the madness as best I could while impatiently anticipating the end to yet another dubious drying cycle.  Then finally, after an absurd ninety five minutes later, a boisterous buzzer did sound, signaling, for myself anyways, the end to a very vexing day…or so I liked to think.

         Alas, whilst attempting to leave that Hell-hole of a laundromat in the dust, Fate did whisper my name, luring me back yet once again to the folly and the madness that I had tried oh-so desperately to leave.  Save the folly and madness, it was back to the dryer’s banged-up barrel, which I had only just previously procured, that I was lured.  There, I disdainfully discovered that one last sock had gone astray from its fateful twin.  Regrettably however, try as I may to reunite one sock back unto the other, I failed in the most miserable of manners. 

         Upon retrieval of my long lost sock, I was suddenly bewildered by that of a blindingly bright light, which, for reasons yet unknown, had rendered me completely useless and unable to retreat from any perceivable harm.  Worse yet, there in Limbo I did linger for what seemed like an eternity, wishing, waiting and wondering why no aid had been dispatched to assist me in my obvious time of need.  Then to my surprise, miraculously, at that very moment’s pondering all my worries seemed to swiftly melt away, for, at long last, help had finally arrived…but to no avail help had been.

         Unfortunately for myself, as patrons from within the laundromat commenced with the rescuing operation, some unseen force from within the aforementioned mysterious light latched onto my flailing arms and began pulling my limp body in its own right, essentially turning my body into a Tug-of-War match.  After all was said and done however, I knew not who had won the war, for my mind was neither here nor there; unconscious, as it were.  Thankfully, I awoke unharmed shortly thereafter.  Yet as to why on a hospital bed I did wake upon, basking in the glowing rays of a stupendous Sagittarian Sun, I hadn’t the slightest idea.

         Finding one’s self on a hospital bed is one thing.  But finding one’s self on a hospital bed without a single sanitized curtain or wall surrounding him is entirely different.

         “If not in the helping hands of a hospitable hospital,” I wondered, “where oh where then could I possibly be?”

         After exiting the confines of my makeshift bed, beckoning for my undivided attention were that of my feet, for those tired dogs had certainly, until now, never before felt such a fabulous feeling of blissful comfort upon kissing the ground.  It was, as they say, like walking on clouds.

         “Surely I must be in Heaven then,” I did ponder, “for only in Heaven can one truly walk on clouds.”  Upon further inspection of my feet however, I was sadly mistaken.

         As I looked to my feet, not a single fluffy, white cloud could be found cushioning my feet abound.  Nay, for there below my bones was a flowing field of grassy-green socks, continuing on as far as the eye could see.  I only wish you could have been there with me to share such view, as this was truly an amazing sight to behold.  Seeing as you were not, allow me then to paint for you a picture of a different kind.

         If you will, imagine that you are standing barefooted in the midst of a plentiful plain located in the heart of Mid-America.  It’s Springtime and, as you look only at the vast view ahead, nothing seems amiss; everything looks normally beautiful, as it were.  You then begin to notice how comfortable your bare feet feel, putting a smile on your face as your feet sink further and further into the ground.  To your surprise, it’s not grass under your feet that you find, but countless green socks instead.  And just like the grass that carpets the Earth back home, when the wind blows, so to do the socks of this world freely flow, wafting into the air the smell of freshly cleaned laundry.  And how could I forget all those flourishing flowers, broadening bushes and the occasional trembling tree?  Indeed, they to were also made of socks, stem and all.  Not only a beautiful sight, but oh so strangely familiar, am I right?  Surely so.  Then you’ll be happy to know, plentiful sock-filled plains was not the only feature this strange new world had to offer.

         As I turned myself about, facing opposite the plains, I suddenly found myself face to face with that of an awe inspiring and majestic forest, much like that of the Giant Redwoods Forest in Northern California.  Here yet once again however, instead of looking like a forest of that nature normally does, the entire forest was completely comprised of countless socks, colored accordingly, leaves and all.  Understandably then, might you not also deem such a world a “Sock Utopia?”  But why socks?

         “Ah ha,” I thought, thinking that I had solved the baffling riddle to my precarious predicament.  “If not in Heaven, then surely I must be dreaming, for only in my wildest dreams could the Earth actually be made out of socks…right?”  Perhaps, but until that question could be definitively answered, I really knew not. 

         As I stood there postulating the outcome to my demise, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  That is to say, I was suddenly hit with that unmistakable, wonderfully enticing, lip-smacking, hunger inducing aroma of bacon frying in a pan.  Of this I was sure, for if there’s yet another thing I know, it’s definitely the familiar smell of bacon and all its greasy goodness.  Absolutely intoxicating the smell was, and I just had to have it.

         Like a pig searching for truffles, I was off on the hunt, intent on tracing the delicious scent of cooked bacon back to its source.  And without much thought I did so search, not only due to my growing hunger and natural lust for bacon, but even more so, I knew that bacon didn’t just cook itself.  Most of hall however, seeing as still I remained in such a strange world without really knowing where to go next, what else was I to do?

         Deep into the forest I followed my nose, searching not only for food, but also intelligent life.  The trek was indeed hard going, though, in the end, I finally found my mark.  Standing there before me was that of a small hut, which was strangely made out of what seemed to be natural looking wood, instead of the sock-filled trees surrounding it.  But after a quick peek inside the hut, not a single soul did I see.

         “Dream or no dream,” I thought, “that bacon will soon be mine.”

         Turning the handle ever-so slightly, I opened the door and entered the hut.  As I suspected, minus the bacon oddly left sitting atop an otherwise bare table in the middle of an empty room, only vacancy did I find.

         “Oh well,” I thought, already shoving bacon down my throat.  “I don’t mind eating alone.”

Little did I know, truly, I wasn’t alone.  At it happens, in fact, with the bacon set as the lure, I had unsuspectingly sprung the trap.


Chapter Two


         Did you know, that on the planet Alias (Al-ïas), bacon, though exclusively earthly in origins, just so happens to be a Forest Goblin’s all-time favorite food?  Whilst unawares of such strange specifics myself, I really can’t say that I’m all that surprised, as I have yet to come across a single soul who didn’t deliberately fall lustfully in love with bacon after only the first bite.

         Perhaps most interesting of all however, that is to say, according to that of an ever-so helpful, half-finished interplanetary traveler’s guide entitled “Planet Alais: An Ever-so Helpful Traveler’s Guide for the Interplanetary Traveler,” bacon also happens to be the lure of choice for the avid goblin hunting Groblin, who hale not from Planet Alias, but from a neighboring world known as Planet Aeros (Air-ös).  Interesting indeed, I should think, considering the most recent turn of events leading to a most regrettable predicament for that of myself; trapped like a bacon gobbling goblin under a solid steel cage, as it were.  Be that as it may, at least I wasn’t starving.

         Although not a single bite of the delightfully delicious fried pork belly remained - and it was indeed a portion to be reckoned with - it’s intoxicating aroma still clung to the air.  Normally, such a lingering scent is a wonderful thing.  Given that my current situation (being in “Sock Utopia,” that is) was anything but normal however, even the seemingly non-threatening perfume of cooked bacon was something far more serious to worry about, for according to the guide, other wandering noses were soon to arrive.  By wandering noses, of course, I mean Forest Goblins, which I could only imagine how upset they’d become after learning that their favorite snack no longer existed.

         “Just clam down,” I demanded of myself.  “With this solid steel cage surrounding me, I have nothing to fear but fear itself.  After all, if I am unable to escape, what then may enter?  Nothing, of course.  Nothing may enter and nothing may leave.  And besides, I’m more than certain that whatever or whomever trapped me must surely be on his or its way to collect me a prize.”

         Thanks to the guide, I had obviously become quite worrisome…which I had every right to be, for no sooner than I had feared it, Forest Goblins of every shape and size soon finally found the hut…and so they entered.  To my delight, I was never once spotted, even though I was really quite obvious.  Clearly, I was of no concern to them at all.  Such a peaceful time however, was never meant to last.  Indeed, when no such snack such as bacon was found, it didn’t take long for those gnarly nosed goblins to find the next best tasty treat…me.

         As a great many frenzied eyes turned upon me with a conspiring look of hunger in them, as I’m sure you can imagine, I was frightfully a mess.  Fearing for my life I crouched under the table.  Frightened, though I surely was, I refused to believe that all wasn’t but a dream.

         “Wake up, damn you, wake up!” I shouted.  Alas, I did no such thing, and still they came.

         Hissing and screaming as if in agony, the goblins drew nearer and nearer with every dragging step.  So close they came to me that, without even noticing it, the goblins blindly banged heads with that of the steel cage.

         “You stupid beasts!” I screamed.  “How could you not see such a shiny, gleaming thing directly before you?!  Can you really be that stupid?!”  Little did I know, by saying such a foolish thing aloud, it was I who was being stupid.

         Unbeknownst to me at the time, the Forest Goblins of Planet Alias are actually much smarter than I had previously assumed - and for that I blame the numerous fairytales accounted to me as a child back home.  Ironically, here’s what the guide had to say on this particular subject: 

         “Contrary to popular belief, it is commonly thought that the Forest Goblins of Planet Alias understand no other language than their own.  In reality however, the word stupid is in fact the only alien word of which the Forest Goblins completely understand, sending them into an unfathomable rage at the mere mention of the word.  As such, it is highly recommended that, when visiting Planet Alias, one should never utter the word stupid whilst in the presence of a Forest Goblin, lest a most certain death be stupidly sought.”  Definitely good to know, right?  If only I had.

         With the Angel of Death assuredly on his way, I naturally felt like praying.

         “But in a world filled with socks, to whom does one pray?” I wondered rather rhetorically.

In my true opinion however, it mattered not to whom I prayed, for after being stricken with that of Cancer, I shunned religion altogether anyways.  Go ahead and judge me if you must, but I guarantee that, had you been in my cancerous shoes while still relatively young, you’d have nothing but hate for God as well.

         Most of all, I guess I just didn’t understand why it had to be me.  I mean, I even went to church every Sunday, Wednesday, and every other damn day that church was in service, faithfully praising and loving God just as I was brought up to do, and meaning it too.  Then, as if from out of nowhere, Cancer came and crashed the party that was my life.  …At any rate, being a diseased bastard didn’t matter much anyways, for it seemed that I was soon to become nothing more than goblin chow.  My only wish was that others could know that it wasn‘t Cancer that had the final laugh.

         So there I was with both eyes closed, awaiting a most gruesome death by consumption…when all of a sudden, every grabbing goblin began gasping desperately for air.  It wasn’t but a minute or so later that all the grotesque goblins fell to the ground at precisely the same time, dying together as one lump sum.  Only then did I realize how lucky I was to be alive.  But how so?

         With the goblins now gone, I couldn’t help but wonder why they had all suddenly died in such a mysterious manner.  For the answer, it was back to the guide.  And I quote: 

“If one does bravely feel so inclined to utter the word stupid in front of a Forest Goblin, they had better be out of harms way…but only for a moment.  Due to an unfortunate genetic heart condition, once filled with their unstoppable rage, any and all enraged Forest Goblin will die 9.9 out of 10 times.  For those unfortunate enough not to be out of harms way of a goblin in rage however, it is they who will have the same odds of dying.”

How ever things ultimately turned out, thanks to the destructive work of the goblins’ sharp teeth and claws, I was finally able to escape the clutches of the cage that had once held me captive for so long.  Alas, where to was the question.

         “Get back, get back,” I sang.  “Get back to where you once belonged,” which, for me, meant getting back to where my journey first began; and coming with me was the guide.

         Oh how happy I was to be alive,  So happy, in fact, that it wasn’t long at all before I had made it back to the plains.  It felt good to be back.  But without realizing how long I had been awake since first finding myself in such a strange world, sleep had finally done me in.  Combine with that a plethora of comfy socks to lie upon, and I was out like a light in a mere matter of moments.

         I awoke shortly thereafter to two voices.

         “Doctor?  Doctor, he’s waking,” one voice alerted to the other.

         “Excellent!” the second voice replied.  “Can you see me, Jaffy?  Jaffy?  How about my voice, Jaffy, listen to my voice.  Can you hear me?  Jaffy?!”

         I tried talking, but nothing was voiced.  I tried moving, but moved nowhere fast.  I even tried to smell and taste the air, but again to no avail.  Alas, with heavy eyes still upon me I fell back to sleep.

         Waking in a hospital was but a dream after all, for when I awoke a second time, I found myself back in “Sock Utopia.”

         “Well, where to then?” I asked aloud to myself.  “Straight ahead to hopefully better things.”  I could only imagine as to what this strange world had to offer me next.


*More to come in Chapter Three*