Silly

Her long-sleeve shirt clung to her like a second skin on that unusually warm November day. I found Susanna barefoot and bent over in the Adirondack chair in her mom’s backyard, with her face a few inches above the grass.

But that pleasant sight was swept out of my mind by the arrival of a gigantic meteor! The fiery ball crashed into the earth with tremendous force, throwing a shockwave like a hot wind in our faces.

In the distance we could see something climbing out of the flaming crater – a giant lizard! Susanna clung to me, too frightened even to scream, and we thought that we were doomed.

To our great joy, our saviors appeared. Gigantic woolen socks descended the miles from space. Not panty hose, always running at the first sign of trouble, or gym socks who break into a sweat when faced with any hard work, but good woolen socks.

We watched as the lizard and the socks battled, and finally, the lizard tore the socks to pieces and ate them. It devoured every last acre of wool greedily, but that was its doom. Choking on the thick wool, the lizard died.

But those woolen socks were great. I know. I wore a pair of them that night on the blind baggage of the overland, and that overland went west.