sock monster usurped

i found my sock.
it was lost.
a nike ankle sock.

from ross.
and I'd been saving its lone counterpart for over three years in the rare instance I would find my lost sock.
three whole years.

36 months.

1095 days.
but I believed.
“yes we can,” i said, as my ex-girlfriend maligned me with insults.
"douche bag."
"asshole."
"jackass."
but i had the audacity to hope.
the audacity to say miracles can happen.
i said, “mandia, i’m asking you to believe. not in the same old sock monster, but a new beginning in which missing socks appear after several years.”
and it did.
despite friends and family espousing negativity at my choice to kept a single nike ankle sock.
“buy a new sock,” they said.
“throw it away,”
“you're an idiot.”
perhaps.
but i advanced confindently in the direction of my dreams.
and i succeded.
ohhh, they said I was strange.
a cheap bastard.
self-absorbed.
a borderline sociopath.
well whos the sociopath now???
i have two nike ankle socks!
nearly new.
and i enjoy them.
tomorrow when I go to the gym I'll wear my nike ankle socks; both of them, and I'll smile in the large gym mirror and play queen’s “we are the champions” on my iPod and run 3 miles on the elliptical machine.
then I will go home and drink a protein shake.
take off my nike ankle socks.
shove them back into my shoes.
shower.
rub some horse liniment on my chronic back ache.
take a few vicodins; wash them down with a coors light, and read david mamet’s “bambi vs. godzilla."
maybe i'll smoke, but i know this:
it will be a good day.
because i'm an american
America.
breakfast for dinner.

super sized fried potaters.

all you can eat shrimp.
five gallon jugs of mayonnaise.

65,000 people just died in china.
100,000 in burma.

But i found my sock.