“Incoming!”
The announcement seemed redundant amidst the bells, whistles and general clatter as the chute opened, spitting out the latest delivery. Olaf sighed, hefting his pitchfork to begin sorting through the new batch. He’d just finished with the last ones.
First, they had to be separated according to size. Determining whether they could be recycled came next. Some were positively indecent, not fit for anything at all. Those went into the fire, but the stench occasionally sent Olaf running to the far corner.
After sorting the remainder by color, Olaf sent them off to the recycle center. There they would be picked apart. He shuddered at the thought. Such a tedious job. He never wanted to be promoted and wind up doing that. Still, it was essential to maintain order in the universe. Everything in its place and all that.
He often wondered what people did with the other sock though, when its mate came up missing. Did they only wear one?
©2010 Laura Eno
