Skip to main content

The 24-hour challenge - 2

I really liked faitoo's odd little story to yesterday's challenge. Today's theme is 'socks'.

The time now is 16.10 GMT and you have a day to come up with a story. Please keep it short and post it in the comment box. Thank you!

Comments

ammani said…
I really didn't mean to do this to you. Slapping you on the face just as we were about to board the plane and accusing of pinching my rear. I'm so sorry I had to do this to you. Especially as you had done nothing. You see, the security wanted me to take my shoes off as I went through the security gate. And of all days, I had to wear my silly, old, torn purple sock on one leg and my husband's striped brown cotton sock on the other. I couldn't let them see me like this. I had to come up with something quick. And I couldn't think of anything else. I'm so, so sorry. I have some face cream in my handbag that might help.
neha said…
She opens the drawer and a formidable challenge looks out at her. A pile of black socks scattered about, each looking for its better half. Some are turned inside-out, wiry little strings sticking out at the edges, like little moustaches. Others have bled out in the washing, not so black anymore. A few have withered, and shrunk, and others have stretched into awkward shapes. She empties them onto the bed; they remind her of people she knows.
faitoo said…
Praying to Shiva without entering his temple.

Na.. not due to my white sparkling socks..
But 'Coz of the charming guy in the neighbouring Car. ;)


Btw .. Thanks ammani for ur appreciation.
-faitoo.blogspot.com
faitoo said…
Praying to Shiva without entering his temple.

Na.. not due to my white sparkling socks..
But 'Coz of the charming guy in the neighbouring Car. ;)


Btw .. Thanks ammani for ur appreciation.
-faitoo.blogspot.com
Falstaff said…
He's getting too fat for this job. He doesn't remember it being this difficult before. Maybe he should consider that diet his wife keeps talking about.

Then again, maybe it's just that the chimney is narrow. That's the trouble with coming to this part of town. He doesn't know why he bothers. It's not like the poor deserve Christmas anyway.

Wheezing and spluttering with soot he emerges from the fireplace, trying not to make too much noise. They probably have thin walls here. Now where the devil is it? Ah there! But what's this? Those aren't stockings. Can't these people do anything properly?

Standing in the pale winter moonlight he stares at the pair of socks, their fabric worn thin at the heel, a hole visible in one toe and suddenly he feels something give way inside him, feels tears in the corners of his eyes. Hastily he unloads gifts from his sack, not bothering to check his list. When the sack is empty, he feels better. "Ho! Ho! Ho!" he whispers to himself, as he slips out the window.
Falstaff said…
[and because stories about socks should come in pairs]

There it is again. That bit in the story where someone - some doting mother or devoted wife - darns some man's socks. Something about these scenes always annoys her. She knows it's supposed to be all touching and beautiful, but I mean really, who darns socks anymore? She wouldn't even know how to. The most she does for her husband is buy him new socks when his old ones wear out, and even that she gets grief for from her women friends, who claim she's spoiling him and that he should learn to buy his own socks. The only reason she does it is because he never seems to realize that his socks have holes in them, and he goes on wearing them, and eventually she's the one who ends up feeling embarrassed. But darning them! That's like something her grandmother would have done. She flings the book aside impatiently, picks up a magazine.
ahiri said…
whee and superman jumped from the skyscraper and hit him hard "sock! poof!pow!"
the 5-yr old said…
Then she saw the carefully folded pair of white socks. It had a slight blue tinge to it in parts. She mistakenly put the socks for wash along with her blue kurta. He meticulously got on the job of removing the stain. That was exactly how he was – scrupulous. The ash-tray should be on the table, a bottle of water at the left corner of the bed, pans arranged in ascending order of size, books too and all socks correctly paired and arranged carefully in the sock-drawer.

There was just this pair of socks and a T Shirt left to remind her of him.

He never used to stay over at her place. It was always her. She would pretty much live in his apartment, which is why his clothes were never in her cupboard.

She never understood why he bought a pair of white socks to go with his black shoes. ‘It’s so gay’, she told him once. ‘Well, do you want me to prove right NOW that am not gay’, was his cheesy playful dialogue for the day. She used to love those b-grade dialogues of his.

Probably it was right to let him go. She could not even do his laundry properly. The bluish-white socks tell her that. She then put both the socks one on top of the other, folded them together in 2 quick folds starting from the toe-side and put it back in the right corner of the sock-drawer.
Itchingtowrite said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
Itchingtowrite said…
They are different."
"They are above us."
"They are snobbish."
'Else why would they be the only ones wearing shoes and socks to school while all of us here go barefoot?'
Itchingtowrite said…
It just needs a pair of pretty patterned, bright coloured socks to make me feel inferior

from the diary of the ubiqutous black pair of socks
Jeeves said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said…
While she prided for burying his memories so fast,it flashed back, the wounded memories when she walked into the Nike showroom, displaying immaculate white socks.

Would she ever see the eternal sunshine of a spotless mind!!!!!

--Kshama
Aim said…
I don't know why but have a mild sockophobia... I almost always avoid them. Even looking at them if they are in the store for display.

It was an otherwise perfectly romantic evening.We had a great conversation going on and were really sparks flying.. yep we were duelling..
Then we went out for a walk nd were talking those sweet nothings nd she said she has a fetish for socks... Oops...



Sorry if its messy... First attempt with a topic nd then trying..
kbpm said…
the bag bulges in weird shapes. she hefts it onto her frail shoulders and trudges on, a steely, determined look on her face. as she nears the building, she pauses, sniffs, and falls in a faint, right there on the steps leading into the gym. in the pale early morning light, the security guard steps out, 'Hey' he shouts. He opens the straps on the bag, in idle curiosity, as she is being revived in the corner. out they tumble, pair after pair of sweaty socks.
Anonymous said…
The once-white sock was the perfect thing to cover the cracked heel.
Anonymous said…
She wondered if socks have invisible wings and they just fly off to distant lands tired of being hung on a cloth line for days. She stared at the lonely sock, waiting for its other half - better/worse. Then she carefully folded it and kept it in the almirah. The other half might turn up one day. Whats the harm in hoping? Sigh.. then she hummed that song she heard the night before.

~Padmini
??! said…
Pink and green?
Yellow and blue?
Or, maybe, white and black?

Nope. Not one combination made her certain that it would spark a new trend. Sometimes, being a celebrity was just a leeetle bit frustrating.
radhika said…
"it took you a while to call...we haven't spoken in a while you know. i was worried..."

"oh no aunty," i said, almost apologetic, not expecting the firm, almost-scolding-tone on the other side. but there was something else about it...

"things were really hectic out here...visitors, kid falling sick...you know..." i fumbled, groping around pathetically for words that sounded like a good excuse for not keeping in touch with my father's only friends-in-london. "you must visit us soon aunty d, we live close to the tube now." there, that might lighten her up a bit.

"hmm, send me your address by post then, and take care, and keep in touch." she hung up. "wait a minute...where do i post it to?" but it was too late. her tone scolded me even after the phone call. why did she sound the way she did, most londoners didn't...even if they were of south indian origin...

i sat down, smsed aunty our new home address, her voice still slurry in my head...

slurry!! that was it!

i chuckled to myself...looks like aunty's been drinking, i thought, while my mobile beeped: 'message sent.'

in a lonely kitchen in south london, another mobile beeped. an elderly woman jumped to her feet, hurriedly taking the mobile out of her sock that she'd stuffed in absent-mindedly, and slipping back in - the little whisky vial that always concealed itself so well inside.

You May Also Like

Guest blog by Chinna Ammani

Here’s an interesting write-up by Chinna Ammani on stereotypical portrayals in Indian adverts. The opinion expressed is strong and the language uncompromising. Read at your own peril!-a

The Aiyaiyo Syndrome

These days I do what is called as a shooting supervision. When ads are filmed (with lip sync) in Tamizh, my job is to teach models their lines and rehearse with them. Most of them are from Mumbai and are non-Tamilians. So when they have to do a line in Tamil, for example "Adanaaladan Dettol ubayogikaren" (And that's why I use Dettol) , they invariably say "Aadanaladaanu naanu Detttaalu ubayogikkareanu" (Something hideous). Their exaggerated delivery of our supposed accent is all thanks to Hindi actor Mehmood. My blood pressure rises and I yell "DO NOT DO A MEHMOOD HERE. WE DO NOT SPEAK LIKE THAT".

Though their voice is dubbed later with a Tamil voice-over, I ensure that they pronounce it the non-Mehmood way. Mehmood has done this major damage to us So…

Bio-data

Married for 31 years, 2 months and 17 days
Six cups coffee a day, brewed everyday of marriage
Three meals a day,
At least two dishes cooked, each meal-time
One snack for every Sunday
Big basket of clothes ironed every Tuesday
Average 18 items of clothing washed per day
Three children
1 miscarriage
One mother-in-law suffered
900 sq metre of floor space mopped, once a day
One caesarean endured
3 chicken poxes, 2 measles, 2 fractures, 8 diarrhoeas, depression, conjunctivitis every summer, 1 tonsilitis and countless common colds and flues
1 job held for 29 years
6 hours slept every night
Sex tolerated every 2nd week
Religious rituals everyone of them, carried out
Not one of them, believed in
Lived 52 years and some
Died exhausted

Overheard, “At least she had the satisfaction of having lived for her family”


http://jikku.blogspot.com/2005/02/quick-tale-3.html#c111042815438237631

The Saturday Poem

Found this in yesterday's paper. Again, I wish I'd written it.

-a

Now and Then

"Now that I'm fifty-seven",
My mother used to say,
"Why should I waste a minute?
Why should I waste a day

Doing the things I ought to
Simply because I should?
Now that I'm fifty-seven
I'm done with that for good."

But now and then I'd catch her
Trapped in some thankless chore
Just as she might have been at
Fifty-three or fifty-four

And I would say to her
(And I have to bite my tongue)
That if you mean to learn a skill
It's well worth starting young

And so, to make sure I'm in time
For fifty, I've begun
To do exactly as I please
Now that I'm thirty-one.

-Sophie Hannah

Lost in Post

To a little boy

It cannot be easy being you. A follow-up act to your more devilishly charming, flamboyant older brother. Before you were born, I was convinced that no child could ever take the special place your brother had come to occupy in my life. I used to argue with your father you would always be a second-born. A runner-up. A bridesmaid (or a best-man, as you turned out to be). That you could never be the prized, cherished, celebrated apple of my eye that my firstborn child was. But how easily you tore down my flimsy little conviction. The minute I saw you, I knew I was gone. What was worse, I succumbed willingly.

My fears that you would be overshadowed by your brother have proven unfounded. Over the past year, you have come into your own as a person. Your brother demands and challenges our love and attention. You, on the other hand, are much more accepting of our distractions with him. It is almost as if you understand that he is used to being the star of the show for much of his…

I ask, you write

Okay, here's the idea. I ask you a question and you write a short story explaining it. Let me give you an example.

What happened when young Padmavathi was drawing water from the well to wash her clothes, early one Margazhi morning?

Annon's story

One morning when Padmavathi was drawing water from the well, she found Pettai Rowdy # 1 Govindarajulu inside the bucket! She dropped it at once and Govindarajulu went down and down and hit the bottom of the well with a Nung sound. His upper and lower teeth fused together and since then he has been fed intravenously. Pettai Rowdy # 2, Ragothaman Iyengar, who suggested this to Govindarajulu, now rules the roost.

After marrying Padmavathi, he is inviting all of you to a water drawing ceremony at the new well they dug in their house.

Jai Ragothaman Iyengar! Jai Padmavathi! Come one, Come all!

-

Here's a question for you.

What happened that made young Meenakshi change her mind about the parrot green saree she had originally chosen and go for a …