The Secret of Black Socks

No, this isn't some deep, thought-provoking post regarding the White Sox of yesteryear.  This is actually about black socks.

I always wondered why men, especially older men, hung out in their black dress socks.  Now I know why.  The simple fact is that many guys wear black socks as part of their work dress code, for church, etc.  When we get home and change out of our daily work clothes, we are loathe to take off our socks.  Frankly, the socks we're wearing are already "broken in" for the day - they are soft, comfortable, warm.  Taking off one's socks means exposing our warmed, comfortable feet to the elements.  Well, okay, maybe not the elements, but certainly the unpleasantness of taking them off only to get out another pair of socks to put on.  Why bother with all that?

Instead, we change out of our stuffy clothes and leave on our comfy socks.  Sorry, women of the world and children/grandchildren, but you're stuck with us and our black socks...

The Ugly Beast (aka "The Stomach Bug")

I left work early today.  Basically, this is why...  (And, I'm not quite rid of the beast yet)
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The beast within awakens slowly, almost gently.  A low, slow grumble begins as the hideous creature starts its journey to escape.  Before long, however, the low grumbling turns into a full out chorus of moans, groans and roars.  A deep, sudden pain from inside, and the bearer knows something is not right. Then, with no further warning, the beast churns and turns, unleashing itself in a violent fit.  It seeks a rapid, explosive exit from its prison.

The first exit is finds comes at the south end of its victim.  The passages twist and turn and the beast breaks apart trying to expunge itself.  With incredible force, the beast liquifies itself, rendering its victim helpless to move.  No, the victim becomes a prisoner to the beast, forced to remain seated, unmovable.  If the beast should find its way clear of the body, things would be over as suddenly as they had begun.  Instead, the beast comes in fits and starts, providing a false sense of relief and security for the being in which is inhabits.

The beast rests.  Or so it seems.

Soon, however, the victim discovers that beast is merely changing directions!  Just as quickly and violently, the beast races its way upward to find another exit.  The victim has no choice but to bow before the porcelain urn placed before him or her, forcing the beast to leave the body.  The body shakes and shutters, rocking harshly with each attempt for the beast to remove itself from its host.  The beast comes again and again.

Finally, in an all-out attempt to free itself, the beast seeks any and all possible exits, trying to remove itself from its carrier.  The victim is forced to abide in the beast's bidding.  Holding a pot while sitting on another, the victim has no recourse other than to endure the pain, the violence, the seemingly endless onslaught.

And, just as quickly and violently as the beast arrived, it departs.  For most victims, the beast's temporary residence lasts but a day's time.  Once it is gone, it seeks out its next victim - young, old, rich or poor.  The beast cares not.