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Rated: E · Poetry · Comedy · #1703276
This is my theory on missing socks. I spelled it 'Missmatch' because I miss my match!
Where do my socks go after I dry them?
This isn’t a joke I really can’t find them!
I go to the store they come by the pair
But after the wash, one isn't there!

Like two pair I washed last week
I opened the dryer to take a peek
of one pair black and one pair white,
one of each had taken flight!

Doesn't it make you wonder?
If there ain't some guy down under?
An ugly, rotund guy, no doubt
with scraggly hair and a big round snout.

'Twas the fat little scrounge who lives under the ground;
He creeps through the town without making a sound.
If you try to catch him, using two socks as bait
when you open the dryer, it's always too late.

Of course, there will come a day,
When we throw all the singles away.
Yep, when those half pairs are gone and forgotten
the sock thief returns because he's so rotten.

Wash after wash and many handfuls of lint,
He sits and he watches and laughs at my torment.
Then he waits for nightfall when we're snug in the sack,
That's when he comes to put the halves back!

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