sock game 4 lyfe

The terrified Sock Badger glanced back as he scampered the opposite direction. A gang of village boys wearing mismatched socks were chasing after him with pitchforks and torches. The boys wanted their socks back. 

Sock Badger knew that if he could make it to the edge of the wood he would be able to crawl into his hole for safety. If he didn't, he would probably be caught, killed, and taxidermied in some unbecoming pose.

As he was running for his life, Sock Badger contemplated his lifestyle choice. For years he had been sneaking into homes at night to steal half pairs of socks to decorate his underground lair with. He wasn't surprised that everyone in the village wanted him dead.

Fortunately for the Sock Badger, the angry mob chasing him had been so angry when they were getting ready that morning, they'd forgotten to put on their shoes and were finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with the fleeting rodent running through the dewey grass.

Sock Badger hurried down into his hole unscathed. As he stood there, panting, he looked around and admired all of his sock trophies that he spent his life accruing. 

He knew right then and there that he could never bring himself to quit the sock game.