Have We Gone Too Far?

Dear Journal,

I know it has been far too many nights since my last entry, and I am sorry to say that I only write this now because I fear that I have unleashed something terrible. Moreover, I fear there is nothing I can do to stop it.

You see, my assistant Sebastian and I have been toiling for months on end to create socks. Not just any socks, mind you, but socks that exist beyond the usual parameters for such a drab, utilitarian garment. We wanted to make socks that were fun, socks that were vibrant, socks that were bold. In short, we wanted to change the landscape of sock culture as we know it.

Though I may later regret the decision to admit as much and burn these pages before they can be found by someone else, I should state that Sebastian and I may have used some methods that are not exactly sanctioned by the Textile Bureau. We may have quickly grown frustrated with the limited results we saw using more traditional assembly techniques. We may have instead called upon certain spirits and conducted certain seances and read aloud certain passages from certain books that are not intended to be spoken by the human tongue.

But the results! The results were amazing!

Or so we thought.

You see, just last night we sent the finished socks to garment stores across the country. Tired but giddy, Sebastian and I went searching for the bottle of Prosecco we had reserved for this very occasion but had somehow misplaced. And it was during this search that we found closets full of dismembered shoes and khaki pants shredded up to the knee.

You see, the socks we created were too bold, too vibrant. When we were not looking they had mounted a preemptive strike against what they viewed as their future prisons. And now, we have sent these socks into the world. Luckily, the name we had already chosen for our venture may send a warning to unknowing consumers: that these are NOT simply stitched socks.

Until my next entry,
Ogden Horthwright