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.

socks to be you

Sock badger felt for the perforation on the corner of the cardboard box then used his trembling sock badger paw to rip open the tab. He shoved his sock badger face in the opening and took a long deep drag with his damp sock badger nose. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his whole body relaxed.

It was like cat nip for cats. Nips for an alcoholic. An alcoholic for AA. 

A sock badger would get a rigid hard-on simply thinking about rimming a fresh box of GOLD CUP SOCKS with its nose. Sock badger tenses. Sock badger craves. Sock badger want. Sock badger sell personal belongings for fresh sock.

You see, sock badgers love fresh socks. The texture of them. The smell of them. The taste of the different cotton dyes intricately woven together by an asian-operated piece of mechanical machinery. Also, when you smoke a sock your brain releases an incredible amount of dopamine. I think it's the bleach.

Sock badger pulled his nose out of the cardboard container and leaned back against the side of the back alley and closed his bloodshot sock badger eyes. He sat there for a few moments then reached into his sock badger pocket and grabbed his sock pipe.

Fuck, Sock Badger realized that he didn't have a light.