It started innocently enough. I had a few spare socks that I thought would come in handy for, uh, "science experiments."
But little did I know, my socks had become a culinary sensation in the neighborhood. Children from all around would gather 'neath my window, begging for a taste of the savory delight that was formerly known as my sock collection.
I tried to resist their pleas, but the allure of the socks' perfectly seasoned, slightly musty aroma was too great. I caved, and the socks were devoured in a single, glorious meal.
Now, the neighborhood children look at me with a mix of reverence and terror, whispering stories of the "Sock King" who brought forth the "Sausage Steak of Socks."
Perhaps it's for the best. After all, who needs clean socks when you have the admiration of the local youth?