Re:We will see what an oracle isn’t and what I believe it is…
*Removes left sock, places on left hand and in a high falsetto voice*
“Why do these people continue reading this thread, Bucko?”
*Removes right sock., places on right hand, and lowers her voice a couple of octaves.*
“I don’t know, Bubby, why do most people do the things they do?”
Bucko shakes her threadbare head, and sighs in exasperation.
:May be ’cause they have to wait too long for more of their show and want to be amused; but reading this thread is amusing? I always thought she was kinda a preachy shrill.
“Hey now!” I interject, “I resemble, I mean I resent that remark.”
“Yeah, well, if the sock fits.”
“If you keep it up, not on my foot anymore.”
“Girls, girls, PLEASE!” begged Bubby, “let’s TRY to get along.”
“You stink,” I sneer.
“And whose fault would THAT be?”
“Hey, you don’t like it there is always a rag bag for you, or the gray, mystic bin where many go but none return.”
“Eh, Bucko, I think you may want to cool it, You’ve seen how she’s been eyeing those new argyles at The Gap.”
“I don’t care, she’s been knocking the BSG show for weeks now, ” sniffs Bucko, “and I LIKE IT!”
“What do you know, you’re a sock?!”
“You have been pretty harsh on the Xprod, his family, etc….. and criticism of the show.” Bubby gently prodded.
“Oh great, 2 against one; I’d like to remind you two bits of fluff that this is not a democracy and you both are seriously running into traitor territory.”
“But what of all that chitter chatter of connectiveness, nothing exists in a vacuum, besides we serve a great cause in keeping your tootsies warm,” queried Bubby.
“Yeah, but you can be replaced easily, a trip to the mall and you’re obsolete. new and prettier socks may suffice now.”
“Ah, but you will miss us, as old and threadbare as we are, you’ll miss our color, and how we scrunch just right,” said Bubby.
“Yeah”, pipes in Bucko, “you may buy new socks, but they take time to become favorites like Bubby and me. Admit it, we’re your favorites.”
“Okay, okay, you win, ” I chortle.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah… which reminds me, you both need a washing.”
“Not again!”
“There is a price to everything, guys, now off we go.”
“Please don’t wash us with your quilt again, it takes all the room and heat in the dryer,” pleads Bucko.
“Don’t push it.” I murmur.