Sock puppet ruler

I found this letter abandoned on my bedroom floor when I woke up early this morning. I can hardly believe the cheek of it. Reproduced for you below, word for word:

“My beloved, one and only Right Sock

I can’t tell you how much I’ve been missing you since we were separated in the wash last week. I miss your warm, silky fibres rubbing against mine when we snuggle up together in our drawer. I miss your musky scent in the morning, you holding me when we’re folded together.

It’s been hell, I tell you - yesterday he turned me inside out to wear me with another left sock! With a hole in it! And it wasn’t a hole in the place you’d expect to find one.

Tartan socks, for Scots that’s the biz
Schoolgirls like us up to the knee
Tintin tucks his trousers in his
But Fred, you’re the right sock for me

When we met on that Primark shelf
I’ll knew I’d never lose your thread
Wholesome in sickness or in health
You’re my sole sockish partner, Fred.

I do hope this letter will reach you somehow, wherever you may be - if I can just hop out to post it before he wakes up!

With love

Left Sock

It’s enough to make you wretch, isn’t it? The offender has been binned, and ‘Fred’ has had a good talking to. Pah! – ‘silky fibres’ indeed – they’re not even made of silk!

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