Alas, poor Sock!

Susan: Alas, poor Sock! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite style, of most excellent pattern: I hath held him in my hand a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at it. Here hung that work that I have knitted I know not how oft. Where be your cuff now? your heel-turn? your toe? your twisting of stitches, that were wont to set the table admiring? Not one now, to praise your own design? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady’s chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.

Horatio: What’s that, my lord?

Susan: How on earth did I manage to lose the sample sock for my new design somewhere on a train between Glasgow and London? And, more to the point, why hadn’t I taken the proper gauge measurements and written them down yet?

[Exeunt stage left, weeping and wailing.]

As there is no body, a memorial service will be held at 8pm on Thursday, 14 June 2012. No flowers, please.

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