The Plague Ground

It’s a known fact that every great business transaction begins with “Psst, Buddy…”

More so when the negotiation sequence is initiated by a sock.

run away

It began a few hours prior in faux Medieval times,* where all attempts to out-cupcake the Dodo in the Battle of the Baked Goods failed in a most pathetic manner. True, it was because Sister Madly fled in what looked like a cowardly fashion, but she had a good reason: her sock was slipping off.

*A Renaissance Faire.

For those still following along, aye- this would be same sock that accosted Sister Madly behind the Hatchet-Throwing Range (perhaps not the ideal place for a little business tête-à-tête, but the nearest Waffle House was several states away.) She lost her sock, you see, when the Dodo made off with it after Sister Madly launched it out the window of the Citadel That Has No Pearls. What became of the Avian Horror immediately after was a mystery- that is, until she came upon a 2-ton* Viking well-versed in Barbarian-speak with her sock on his hand. Sister Madly didn’t think that was very sanitary, but then, hygiene didn’t seem to be a top priority with this particular philistine.

*Weight approximate.

sock puppet2

It came as no surprise to find that, amongst his other fiendish virtues, the Dodo was a heartless Sock Trafficker, having sold her paisley little friend to the Vikings for mere pennies on the dollar. Now her wretched Sock was doomed to a life of hard Viking labor, such as drinking and pillaging, and bellowing incoherent battle cries (faux Medieval-era Vikings didn’t do much else.)

But what baffled her was that the Sock didn’t seem particularly upset about this- in fact, it seemed rather chipper, if not downright happy. The Sock was never happy on her foot; after all, it did try to slip off earlier in the day. It did fly out the window at the first opportunity, and not once did it protest when shanghaied by the Dodo.

And when one considers the fact that it was the Sock, itself, negotiating its own safe return…


She promised the Sock prime real estate in her sock drawer. She promised him treats. She promised to hand-wash him in the kitchen sink rather than force him to endure the spin-cycle, which can’t be a pleasant experience. She even promised to buy him a cider here and now… an offer that was interrupted by the arrival of some good, old-fashioned, plague doctor melancholy.

You’re bribing a Sock Puppet with a pint?

My dear corpse-bird, if Sister Madly had a dollar for every time… that is, she has negotiated with socks before, especially during that crucial washer-to-dryer transfer- that they honor their commitment to each other, that they implement the buddy system- admittedly with mixed results. Besides, she wouldn’t be bribing her Sock with a pint if someone hadn’t handed him over to the Vikings in the first place!

I set him free. If he loves you, he will return to you.

yahhSister Madly’s dainty way conceding ‘Touché.’

Why aren’t you out treating the plague?!

Do you see a case of the plague that needs to be treated?


Rather than admit that he had a valid point- or worse, that he was good at his job- Sister Madly lamented that she didn’t have any cupcake ammo aimed at his stone-cold heart (if he had one.) The Dodo then obliged her with a handful of his customary Mystery Flavored Dum Dums.

Which she threw right back at him.

But soon she faced a different dilemma: her other sock clearly wasn’t happy about being left out of the barbarism- she knew this, because it was currently working its way down to her toes much like its mate had. It wouldn’t be long before she had a mutiny on her hands, and to be overthrown by sock puppets was not the way she wanted to leave this planet.* Besides, this particular sock species tends to mate for life- one never sees a paisley sock paired with an argyle. To destroy such a bond would be cruel, and Sister Madly had no choice but to let this sock join its mate. Her conscience can be totally bourgeois, sometimes.


And so Sister Madly pulled off her other sock and stuffed it into the Viking’s drinking horn.*

*Her conscience can be a total brat as well.

THEME SONG: Rock-A-Sock-A-Hop, Jimmy Crain




35 responses

  1. The experiments upon the DNA extracted from your socks are proceeding as planned.

    Liked by 1 person

    May 19, 2016 at 5:38 AM

  2. Quite unique…

    Liked by 1 person

    May 19, 2016 at 7:42 AM

  3. The concoction looks much like “Toad in the Hole” but being something socko, I imagine, “Toed in the Hole” is more espresso. Really gotta get that auto-correct fixed.

    FYI … Sock puppet bears a striking resemblance to Lamb Chop, who was delicious.

    As always Milady, please ignore the, “Don’t Feed The Bears” signs.

    Liked by 1 person

    May 19, 2016 at 7:59 AM

  4. How is it that SM keeps encountering Vikings at Renaissance Faires? (As I recall, this is isn’t the first time.)

    Liked by 1 person

    May 19, 2016 at 8:50 AM

    • As medieval times were clearly the most politically correct era in history, the faire thrived on diversity: I’ve also encountered various anime, the local Hell’s Angels chapter (from a distance) and something called a wookie.

      Liked by 1 person

      May 19, 2016 at 12:56 PM

      • I once was at the Renaissance Pleasure Faire near Los Angeles when a buxom lass approached me. She had a turkey leg – a popular faire delicacy – which she offered to share with me saying,”You look like you could use some thigh.” Was that a diversity?

        Liked by 1 person

        May 19, 2016 at 6:19 PM

        • That was probably a native. Innuendo is the one of the official languages of the faire.

          Liked by 1 person

          May 20, 2016 at 12:14 PM

  5. Ahh you gave up the mate so it could join the rebel. That was highly considerate of you! Oh look a recipe, that looks pretty yum! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    May 19, 2016 at 11:33 AM

  6. locksley2010

    So THAT’S what happens when a sock disappears: it joins bands of Viking reenactors! It’s so obvious, how did I not see this?

    Liked by 1 person

    May 19, 2016 at 11:01 PM

    • Because we all desperately want to believe that our sock’s loyalty remains ever steadfast to our feet, rather than admit that socks, too, dream of a barbaric, inebriated life of adventure!

      Liked by 1 person

      May 20, 2016 at 12:27 PM

      • locksley2010

        I wouldn’t mind so much as long they took me with them. Oh well….

        Liked by 1 person

        May 21, 2016 at 6:28 AM

        • Good point. The socks get Valhalla, and we are left with… what? A world filled with whiskey and cider?

          Oh dear. Now I torn between the two.

          Liked by 1 person

          May 21, 2016 at 12:00 PM

        • locksley2010

          Might as well get started. Cheers!

          Liked by 1 person

          May 21, 2016 at 12:41 PM

  7. Heartafire

    Fantastic post Sister Madly!

    Liked by 1 person

    May 23, 2016 at 12:33 PM

  8. You are way too kind to your socks….you need to show them whose boss…plain and simple…. Flog them , flay them, dunk them in a vat of water ( but I imagine the last one won’t do much good as they are probably already used to the torture of being laundered) .

    But you must do whatever it takes to get them in line!

    Why, if other sock started hearing of this emancipation from their owners there would be havoc in all the towns and villages across the land ! Rioting, arson, mass chaos! Why already, my own sock is starting to think about slipping!!

    Look what happened to the Hobbits of Middle Earth….they haven’t seen there socks in thousands of years…thankfully the Hobbits survived the mass exodus of their turncoat leggings and have rebuilt their society

    Please do the right thing and get your socks in line for the sake of all humanity…

    Liked by 1 person

    May 24, 2016 at 7:15 AM

    • It’s true that I’m much more of a disciplinarian with my nose rings, which tend to vanish in the night, but that’s because I’ve never had to questioned my socks’ loyalty. Once they get holes, they become dust rags- I assumed they were happy with this arrangement.

      But in light of your warning, one cannot help but wonder about the stray gym socks skulking about in the gutters or on the side of the road… We all assume they were abandoned, but were they really?! Or will the Sockalypse soon be upon us?

      Liked by 1 person

      May 24, 2016 at 12:36 PM

      • They are all biding their time….seemingly innocent lazily laying around like vagrants in the streets…..but when the signal is given….they shall rise up…and usurp us all in our vanity and wantonness and remove us from power.

        Soon we shall all bow to the mighty sock lords….I hope I am not around to see that day pass!

        But be steadfast and crack that whip and keep them in line for there is still yet hope…

        Liked by 1 person

        May 24, 2016 at 12:53 PM

  9. Pingback: Libestered Award | Opalflame

  10. very cool Sister, madly good…

    Liked by 1 person

    June 2, 2016 at 10:27 PM

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