When I woke up, all my socks were gone.
No, really. I came downstairs and the first thing my brother said to me was "All your socks are gone."
This was not a satisfactory explanation.
After a moment's pressing, he explained that my socks, which had been hung on the washing line overnight, had all been mysteriously snatched away, leaving only a garden littered with clothespegs and one lucky sock that had escaped. He also explained that he had taken the liberty of attaching a ransom note to the pole holding the line up, telling us to leave £72550 in a sports bag near the motorway bridge.
The sock is now sitting in a sealed freezer-bag, labelled "Evidence". We are currently nowhere near solving this mystery. More details as they come.
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2 comments:
*twiddles thumbs*
*cackles*
This entry is both genius and insane at the same time. It's almost art.
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