The Great Sock Conspiracy
It was supposed to be the perfect day: a lazy Sunday morning, a freshly brewed cup of coffee, and a clean pair of socks. But little did I know, my cat, Mr. Whiskers, had other plans. As I reached for my socks, I felt a sudden pang of dread. They were gone. Vanished. Stolen.
Read more about the Great Sock Conspiracy
Or, if you're feeling particularly masochistic, try: The Time I Accidentally Superglued My Shoes Together