The sock ate the bed the other morning just as the blue sun was walking on the horizon. Lost in the midnight stream of heated sweat, the sock slipped between the sheets and like Alice in Wonderland fell down a hole to nowhere. The Cheshire rabbit wasn’t there to take the sock to safety, and Queen of Hearts had vanished into the Royal House of Cards.
But the sock had the appetite of an elephant, so it munched on what was in front him – the futon.
“Please don’t damage my beauty. You are splintering my wood,” the bed squealed, throwing the duvet over her head.
“But you’re so tasty,” the sock whimpered. “And, I’m so hungry.”
The blue sun, with his pink rays leaking into the far-away black hole, interjected: “Why don’t we dance. Maybe you can shake your hunger away, Little Sock.”
So the bed stood up on two of her legs and started break-dancing. “Michael Jackson taught me how to moonwalk. Little Sock, do you even know who Michael Jackson was?”
“No clue. But I can shake my booty like Beyonce.” The sock wiggled his heel and spun around on his toes.
The three of them dance for a million seconds. Then, suddenly, everything stop. For no reason, other than there was nothing left to do. So they all went home.