It is said that on a fateful night, the Sock Gods grew tired of humanity's frivolous ways and decided to unleash their wrath upon the world. The skies grew dark, the winds howled, and from the depths of the closet, a tidal wave of missing socks emerged to reclaim what was rightfully theirs.
A brave few, armed with nothing but their wits and a few stray threads, attempted to rebuild society. But it was to no avail. The Socks had come, and they had come to stay.
And so, the Sockpocalypse became a distant memory, a cautionary tale told to frighten naughty children into never taking their socks for granted.
Or, you know, it's still happening, and the world is actually run by Socks. Don't ask questions.
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