There once was a sock.
A regular sock.
Except it believed — with full confidence —
that it was actually a dragon.
Not a metaphorical dragon.
Not a symbolic dragon.
A literal dragon.
It practiced roaring in the laundry hamper.
(Which sounded like: ‘mrrph.’)
It tried to breathe fire.
(Which mostly resulted in warm lint.)
And it attempted to fly.
(Which consisted of falling off the dryer with enthusiasm.)
One day, the other sock went missing.
Classic sock behavior.
Laundry gremlins, you know.
But the dragon-sock took this as a sign.
A quest.
So it set off.
Wiggled its way across the laundry room.
Climbed Mount Detergent.
Crossed the Great Tile Plains.
Braved the Shadow Under the Washer.
Finally — it found the missing sock.
Not kidnapped.
Not lost in another dimension.
Just… stuck to a towel.
The dragon-sock freed it with great honor
and declared the mission a triumph.
The other sock just said,
“Bro. We’re socks.”
To which the dragon-sock replied,
“Wrong. I am destiny.”
And honestly?
No one argued.
Jessica Carey
