Sock-O Presto! The Case of the Magic Socks

Ah, socks. These white cotton feet-sleeves were an ongoing issue on the crisis unit. The kids were constantly wearing them out, as—by rule—they could wear no shoes on the unit. Every physical activity they engaged in, particularly, wore holes in their socks. Sliding into base on their feet during kickball, for example, really tore the socks up.

Moreover, it seemed as if the Orphanage budget on socks was woefully inadequate, and so a predominant sight on the unit was a disorganized gaggle of toes sticking out of holes in the kids' socks here and there. We just couldn't keep up with the demand for new, "un-holey" socks, and so the kids too often ran around with recycled-way-too-many-times holey ones.

There was one kid, in particular, who was an agent for sock mutilation. His name was Roger, and he had a miserable habit of constantly picking at the toes of his socks and wearing holes into them prematurely, even for the unit's standards. Roger's penchant for sock destruction really frustrated the staff, as it was their job to hunt down adequate socks for the kids whenever they needed a pair, such as after their showers. Roger just made this job that much harder.

One day, a couple of coworkers—the aforementioned Lara (see "A Brush with Death") and a maverick named Antwone—and I had Roger in a room called "Special Care." This room was where we took kids whose behavior was disrupting the unit or otherwise making it unsafe. We had Roger in Special Care because he had begun climbing furniture and stirring up the other kids. We "snatched him up" and led him into the room, which was more or less a short fortified hallway where the kids could pound the walls and hit a punching bag without really destroying anything.

So, Roger was in here and we were trying to speak to him about his behaviors, trying to drill into his head that they were not appropriate and to get a sense of why he was acting out so that we could target the source of his actions. However, in addition to sock mutilation, Roger had perfected the art of ignoring adults when being lectured. He seemed to be able to tune out the staff effortlessly, which could really, really get under your skin.

So here we were trying to lecture Roger; and there he was sitting against the wall ignoring us, as if we weren't even there, and just picking away at his socks—a double insult. Our blood began to boil. Lara, Antwone, and I looked at each other and shook our heads. Then, we decided we had had enough, and Lara proclaimed our sentiment by belting out, "That's enough!"

My coworkers furiously bent down and each ripped a sock off of Roger's legs. These were knee-length athletic socks with green and yellow bands at the top. They turned and flung the socks behind them—both socks flying over a bench and landing out of sight on the other side—and then turned back to Roger.

"What?!" they both cried out. Roger still had his knee-length, yellow-and-green-banded socks on. Lara and Antwone looked extremely confused. Lara held her hands in front of her as if begging for an explanation, and they both looked back and forth several times, searching for the pair of socks they ripped off of Roger's legs—which somehow magically reappeared on his feet.

"What?" Antwone repeated. "I swore I pulled his sock off."

"Me too!" Lara chimed. "What they hell just happened? Are you a freakin' David Copperfield, or what? How'd you do that?"

I saw the whole thing and knew exactly what happened, the secret to Roger's magnificent trick. But I waited a moment to reveal it, for I was reveling too much in the comedy of my coworkers' befuddlement.

They scratched and shook their heads for awhile; Roger still sat there expressionless, almost catatonically, although I'm sure somewhere inside he was laughing at us. He refrained now from picking at his socks, however.

"Okay, guys," I finally spoke up. "You're not crazy, and he's not an illusionist. He had two pairs of socks on. Both pairs have the same design. You threw the first pair behind the bench, where you can't see them. That's the second pair he has on."

"Oh!" Lara and Antwone both exclaimed, and then smiled.

And then they both frowned and turned back to Roger and ripped the second pair of socks off. This time, there was no backup pair to the backup pair.

"There!" Lara said. "Now you're not getting any socks for the rest of the day unless you talk with us."

I don't quite recall if Roger eventually began to talk. All I know is, that double-sock farce was the funniest thing I had seen in a long time. A very long time.


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© 2008 David Lee Cummings