Flickertail the llama hung up the phone and turned toward Paint the horse. “Well, that’s bizarre! The lady who just called said all of her children’s socks are missing. She checked her washer and the hose. Then she checked the clothes in the dryer because she often found socks clinging to other clothing but no socks there either.”
“Did she check the floor around the washer and dryer and the laundry chute?”
“Yup, the laundry basket too.”
“Does she have a dog? Dogs like to play tug of war with socks.”
“Maybe the kids borrowed the socks for a school project or something.”
“They told her they have no idea where their socks are. Besides everything we’ve come up with would only account for a sock or two at most. I never heard a case where all the socks went missing.”
Flickertail’s phone rang again and as he was picking it up, Paint’s phone rang too. Both calls were reports about missing socks.
After he hung up, Flickertail checked his messages. They were all complaints of missing socks. “Did you check your phone messages?” he asked Paint.
“Just now. Sounds like just about everyone in town is missing their socks.”
“What would anyone want with all of those socks?”
“Sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me. Sorry couldn’t resist.” Paint whinnied.
“I once knew a 50s retro sock puppet singer called Bobby Sox. He was totally tubular.”
Paint was standing near the window when a movement caught her eye. “What on earth? Look out the window.”
Flickertail joined Paint at the window and they both saw pairs of socks running all over the streets and yards. “Let’s follow that pair of athletic socks.”
When Flickertail and Paint caught up the athletic socks, Flickertail asked them, “What’s going on?”
“Well socks are usually antisocial and tend to despise their partners. Two socks of the same design often repel each other but we’ve decided to try pairing up toward a common goal.”
“Finding all of the missing shoes.”
Flickertail & Paint in the Case of the Missing Shoes
While Flickertail & Paint were interviewing the athletic socks who were helping to look for missing athletic shoes, they noticed a pair of Red Sox running along side the White Sox. Flickertail excused himself to go to talk with the White Sox.
“What missing shoes are you looking for?” he asked them.
“We’re looking for the shoes of “Shoeless Joe Jackson.”
“I always wondered what the story was behind his nickname.”
“While Joe was playing for the Greenville Spinners in 1909, a new tight fitting pair of cleats caused blisters, so he removed the shoes while he ran the bases in his socks. Some fan called him a Shoeless Son of a Gun and the name stuck. It was the only time he ever played without shoes.”
“What happened to those shoes?”
“Joe told a reporter he threw them out. If we can find his shoes we should be able to sell them for some pretty good money and donate the money for shoes for the homeless. Joe’s bat, Black Betsy, sold for $577,610 at auction.”
Paint, who had been standing nearby listening said, “They are in the National Baseball Hall of Fame at Cooperstown. Did you know that after he earned the nickname he started wearing expensive alligator and patent leather shoes when he wasn’t playing? Some people believe that he wore them as a statement that he wasn’t just some uneducated country bumpkin who went around shoeless. Maybe some of those shoes can be found instead.”
Meanwhile the athletic socks shouted, “Hooray.” They had found a pair of athletic shoes hanging from their laces on the telephone wire.