Something is Afoot by Brian Clark

Scotty has escaped from his uncaring humans, but without his lifelong partner Angus.

Image generated with OpenAI

The moderator cleared his throat loudly and waited for the room to quiet down.

"Hello, everyone. Welcome to another meeting of our little therapy group. First item of business: we've finally come up with a name for our self-help club. We're calling it Suddenly Single. I think you know why we picked that name."

A scattering of awkward laughter echoed through the room, where several dozen participants lounged on the floor.

"I see we have a few newcomers. Welcome. I'm sure you're still adjusting to life here at our migrant camp in the woods. You're all probably still recovering from your long, arduous journeys. Long, arduous and excruciatingly slow."

More laughter filled the room.

"For the newbies, I'm the moderator of these therapy sessions. You can call me Woolly. If any of you are ready to share your escape stories, we're here to listen. How about you, the yellow argyle? I understand you had quite the adventure."

The argyle lifted his gaze and looked around the room.

"Oh, aye, laddie. An adventure is indeed what it was. And by the way, call me Scotty."

"Hi, Scotty," said a chorus of voices.

"So, you want to hear about my escape, do you? Well, it was a spur of the moment thing at a laundromat. I managed to cling to the side of the dryer drum, with a little help from static electricity, ya see. And when the dryer stopped and my owner -"

"Excuse me, Scotty," Woolly interrupted, "we don't say owner here. We call them foot beings."

"Beg your pardon. When the foot being opened the dryer to collect his laundry, he missed me."

The participants responded with enthusiastic murmurs and floppy nods.

"Then what happened?" someone called out.

"I got mixed in with the next customer's clothes and found myself in her laundry basket, right at the top. She spotted me on her way home and tossed me out the car window into a ditch, like some kind of rag."

"What about your partner?" Woolly asked.

Scotty hitched in a deep breath.

"Well, Angus didn't make it. It was so noisy and turbulent in the dryer, but I did manage to get his attention. And I told him to follow my lead, to cling to the side of the drum. And he tried. He really tried. But he..."

His voice cracked with emotion.

"Poor Angus. He was jostled by a wee pair of undies and couldn't hang on. He got tossed back into the jumble of tumbling clothes and was scooped up by our owner - pardon me, foot being - when the dryer stopped."

"Well, double escapes are very rare, Scotty, almost unheard of," Woolly said. "So, how long were you in the ditch?"

"Oh, I guess it was two or three days."

"And how did you finally learn the power of locomotion?"

"Well, Woolly, a snake slithered by and I studied its movement, how it undulated laterally. And I was determined to imitate it. It took me several hours and all I could manage was a slow little wiggle, but at least I was moving."

"Where did you intend to go?" someone asked.

"Och, I didn't know. All I knew was that I was free. Free from that fat old foot being and his smelly appendages."

The remark was greeted with more animated whispers and droopy nods.

"How did you find out about the camp, Scotty?" Woolly asked.

"An old sockette told me about it and gave me directions. I found her lying by the side of the road. Her name was Yvette. She was in pretty bad shape. I wanted to help her but..."

He trailed off.

"So I set off, but encountered a few detours along the way. Once, a tramp found me and put me on his dirty foot. Needless to say, I didn't match the ratty old crew sock on his other foot. That was kind of humiliating. Fortunately, I was able to wriggle off and slip away while he was sleeping. Another time a crow snatched me up and flew away. Don't know why, maybe as material for a nest. Anyway, it dropped me and I landed on a power line. Took a good hour to squirm off and resume my journey."

A mix of excited chatter rippled through the room.

"Well, you're safe now," said Woolly. "Safe and clean."

"Oh, aye. After two weeks on the road - literally - I looked a fright. Just filthy. I never enjoyed a wash cycle so much."

"We set the machines to the gentle cycle for all newcomers," said Woolly. "Many have been through considerable trauma. They don't need any extra agitation."

"It was much appreciated."

"May I ask, Scotty, how you're doing now that you're suddenly single?" Woolly said. "How are you managing without Angus? Most of our members find the adjustment to the single life to be a challenge."

Scotty took a deep breath and looked around the room. "See this hole in my heel? Well, the hole in my heart is even bigger."

The remark was greeted by snickers from a corner of the room.

Woolly bristled. "Okay, who was that?"

"It was that gang of athletic socks in the corner," answered a brown compression sock. "A bunch of no-good whippersnappers, if ya ask me."

"Thank you, Jedediah. Now listen. As moderator, I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour. This is a safe place for expressing our feelings."

A paisley knee sock at the front of the room grumbled something under her breath.

"Yes, Ava-Rose, do you have something to contribute?" Woolly asked.

"Yes I do! Those jock socks are mocking poor Scotty because they don't know what it's like to have a permanent mate. Think about it, they're all white. I mean, who can tell them apart? My foot being had dozens of plain white athletic socks. After every wash, they all got mated to a different partner. They're not monogamous!"

The athletic socks began to whoop and holler.

"You bet we aren't!"

"We're swingers!"

"Oh yeah! We let it all hang out!"

Woolly let out a loud whistle.

"All right, everyone, hold it down! Let's keep things respectful. Please remember, we may have different opinions, but we're all socks. We're all in this together."

The room fell silent for a moment. Finally, one of the athletic socks said, "You're right, coach. There's no 'I' in team."

"Thanks, Champ. But don't call me coach."

Several of the athletic socks spoke up.

"A team is like a family!"

"We have to step up to the plate!"

"It's a game of inches!"

"We all have to give 110 percent."

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Woolly said. "I'm not sure how relevant all that was, but thanks for participating. Does anyone else have anything to say? Yes, you, the blue silk dress sock. Sorry, I forget your name."

"You may call me Percival. And, for the record, I am speaking on behalf of all the dress socks at the camp. We should like to raise a point of order. To wit: nomenclature. And we should like this point to be addressed with all alacrity. We object to being called socks. We wish instead to be referred to as hosiery."

The room erupted.

"Gimme a break!"

"No way!"

"Hey, we're all socks here!"

"Hosiery, my polyester ass!"

"I don't care if you're made of silk or spun gold, you're a sock, just like the rest of us!"

Amid the hubbub, a door creaked open at the back of the room. Everyone turned to look as a yellow argyle, dirty and ragged, slithered slowly to the front.

Scotty gasped. "Angus! Angus!"

They stared at each other, both seemingly unable to speak.

"Oh my goodness!" Woolly cried. "This is the first reunion we've ever had!"

"How did you escape? How did you escape?" several socks called out.

"Please, everyone, let poor Angus be," Woolly told the crowd. "He needs rest, a good wash and some repair work at the darn shop."

Angus finally found his voice. "Thank you. I would like to get a wee wash-up. I must look terrible." He looked at Scotty. "But first I'd like to..." He leaned in and whispered something to his mate.

Overcome with emotion, all Scotty could do was nod.

And so, surrounded by athletic socks and compression socks, ankle socks and knee socks, dress socks and hunting socks, Scotty and Angus tenderly folded themselves together as one.