Tuesday, June 11, 2013

God’s Socks

            “See, the good sock, with the good elastic, is the one being eaten by my shoe. The one with the crappy, worn out elastic is the one staying up. Isn’t that crazy,” asked Rob.
            “Uh, that is weird,” said Carl.

            They both looked at Rob’s outstretched legs and at his white tube socks poking from the inside of his well worn sneakers. They socks were as white as his bone white legs and it was hard to tell really where the socks began and the legs started. Only because of Rob’s khaki shorts could Carl tell that Rob’s legs actually weren’t just huge pieces of chalk.

            “Yeah. Weird. You might consider getting a little sun on those legs,” said Rob.

            The bus rocked over the rough surface of the street and Rob and Carl bounced along with it. Rob lowered his legs and put his feet back on the floor. Carl shook his newspaper like the old timey movies always showed men doing to straighten it out. He cleared his throat.

            “It’s just that I don’t understand why the universe would choose to pull the good elastic sock down while leaving the clearly worn out elastic up where it’s supposed to be on my leg,” said Rob.
            “It’s a mystery alright,” said Carl.
            “I mean, what does it say about this crazy universe? That everything is completely random without any form or function? Those things just happen just because?”
            “I don’t know if there is any higher significance,” said Carl.
            “Does the universe care about socks,” asked Rob.

            Carl lowered his newspaper and sighed slightly. He looked over at Rob and the disheveled state of his left sock. Rob looked up at Carl.

            “I don’t think the universe cares about socks; other then when it needs to feed on them from the dryer. I think that you knew when you put those socks on this morning that one of them would wind up getting sucked down into your shoe as you walked. You selected those socks from your drawer and consciously placed them on your feet. I don’t think the universe had anything to do with your socks. You picked the socks, not the universe,” said Carl.

            Carl returned his glance to his newspaper and Rob just stared at his own pasty legs. The bus continued to roll along and Carl and Rob jostled in their seats as the moon sized potholes were traversed by the steely armed bus driver.

            “So what you’re saying is, I’m the instrument of the universe,” said Rob, “the universe placed that choice in front of me and practically commanded that I become part of its randomness,”.
            “I’m not going to get through to you am I,” asked Carl.
            The bus rolled toward Hamlin Street and Carl reached up for the cord to request his stop.

            “I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Carl.
            Rob looked up at Carl and started swinging his legs like a child in a chair that’s too big.

            “Only the universe knows for sure,” said Rob.


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