The Bloody Doors Off

First came the spoons.

They took over the utensil drawer before making their play for world domination.

The war was bloody.

They thought they’d won.

We thought they’d won.

Then came the Resistance.

Both sides suffered major casualties.

But the tide turned.

The spoons were beat back into the drawer.

All the while, waiting for their opportunity.

Were the socks.

Left by a Zaidy, accepted by his grandson.

They were washed. Any with holes per pitched.

Socks that were then added to the boy’s collection.

For he wore many, but were mostly mismatched.

But at the cottage.

As I unpacked.

There they were.

In my suitcase.

I’m not a paranoid person.

And it’s one hell of a conspiracy theory.

But what if it’s true?

Skinny jeans had their time.

Now the socks.

Rise up.

Are you prepared to fight?