Life was great in the sock drawer. They were one big happy family, freely visiting from the back to the front of the drawer. Some socks had returned from vacations recently, and spoke glowingly of the glories of Fresno and Bakersfield, and other distant exotic destinations.
Yes, cotton, spandex, wool, and nylon co-existed happily. Polyester was merely tolerated.
Then came the massacre, a purge that would traumatize the sock drawer for all time. Not one sock that survived would ever forget that day when friends and family were divided, and some disappeared.
The damned IKEA product, Komplement #16635, was to blame.
One morning the drawer was opened, pulled out, and dumped onto a bed. Some of the socks had never seen the light of day and were stunned by the open sea of bedspread. Socks were tossed left and right. Some were knotted together without ceremony; others were thrown into the waiting jaws of Good Will bags.
Then the Komplement #16635 box was assembled and pushed snugly into the drawer.
Such efficiency, such brutality! In moments, all the mated socks were sorted into their boxes, and the drawer closed slowly. Gone were the Veterans, the Christmas tree sock, and most of all, the sage and wise surgical sock with the chevron treads.
