The Sock of the Month Club

So a herd of wildebeests are crossing the great savannah of Africa on their annual migration and they come to this river teeming with 20 foot long hungry crocodiles and the herd is going to cross it anyway because they’re wired to do crazy things like that. The first wildebeest jumps in and a huge croc slips beneath the water in the direction of the struggling animal and you know that within seconds the poor creature will be pulled under the water and eaten right there on TV in High Definition. Sure enough ripples appear near the struggling animal and the croc explodes out of the water but the wildebeest makes a quick turn and the croc misses. Quickly the crocodile gathers itself for another lunge. And right then my cordless telephone rings.

I didn’t look at caller ID before I picked up (I was staring at the screen with a bowl of popcorn in my lap when they cut to a commercial) and so suddenly I was talking to a telemarketer who wanted me to sign up for the Sock of the Month Club. Me being the sort of individual who can be mesmerized by shiny objects or put into a trance by songs like “It’s a small world (after all)” just sat there and listened to the whole spiel.

Apparently you pay a certain amount and every month for 12 months (with automatic renewal available at the end of the year) you get a pair of socks in the mail. They have all kinds of socks---black socks that go above or below the calf ( your choice) , work socks, hiking socks, socks with wires in them for heat during the winter and ultra thin socks ( all cotton) for the summer and all their socks have an odor eating chemical sewn right in for people with odor issues. I’m a Gold Bond foot powder man myself---industrial grade.

Sometimes I wonder how people come up with their ideas for a new business and I think, Gee, where do all these people come from? I often hope they do not have a valid driver’s license or children. Anyway I started talking to the Sock Man.

I have a tendency to give a lot of myself to people which probably gets annoying at times. But Gavin, the Sock Man, wasn’t annoyed at all. I was telling Gavin about my tennis elbow and how the doc had shot my arm full of steroids and so now I could ride my motorcycle and how it no longer hurts to turn a door knob or shave and then Gavin told me about his recent bout with the flu and kidney stones and that he had a motorcycle too.

Soon Gavin and I were like old buddies. He explained how he was converted over to Harley Davidson motorcycles by a passing missionary and I told him I rode a BMW. “Oklahoma”, he said when I asked where he lived and that instantly put the “whoa” on any Sunday afternoon rides together.

I ended up not buying the socks but I am on the call-back list so Gavin and I might be exchanging tips on helmet maintenance sometime within the next six months.

Now only the crocodile was back on the screen---looking fat and lazy. I tossed some popcorn in my mouth and decided I like plain and simple---such as fresh bread, azaleas in bloom, Sunday naps and cheating at checkers with the grandkids. The simple things in life are always the best. Aren’t they? Sure they are. Always.