Who gives a sock?
I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. The other day, a critic said of my latest work: “His story is as loud and useless as my worn-out socks.”
I wrote the critic and asked him how can worn out socks be loud?
He wrote me back saying he was taking poetic license.
I wrote back asking why he buys his socks from a poet? I must have said something adverse, because I haven’t heard back from him. But he did send me a bill for four pairs of socks.
Booker's Blog 