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It’s a cold day outside, and I’m enjoying it by having the window open and wearing my friendly sock monkey pjs.  Life is good.

 I start to turn, and the Stinker pulls my arm to turn me back where I started. Huh?

“I’m looking at the sock monkey on your pajamas,” she explains. “There’s sock monkey on a date.”

“Well that’s good. That’s good to know,” It is, I think. “Even sock monkeys should get lucky sometimes.”

“Mooooommm! I can’t believe you just said that. That is so wrong!”

“What? What’s so wrong about it? Why shouldn’t sock monkeys have their fun? “

“That’s just WRONG! That’s disturbing.”

“Not to other sock monkeys. I say, Let Sock Monkey get a little action. He deserves it. He’s a versitile guy. He cooks and cleans and everything. Why shouldn’t sock monky have a little noogie? I think he deserves it.”

Somewhere around then, she said I was nuts or something. I dunno. I was kind of in my own vision of sock monkey world, where our hero lives, working and playing and getting his occassional action. Good for him!

Go, Sock Monkey. Go!