Roaring jagged sounds of sewing machines drowned out any conversation in a small sock factory of the industrial sector in Italy. Maria, one of the quality control workers, a frumpy lady in her mid-50s, wore a flowery summer ensemble, complete with a lace collar. Her salt and peppery tight curls framed her face covered by thick horn rimmed glasses. She could pass for a librarian, but unfortunately could not pass librarian school... you see, she had a poor memory. Bitter and angry, she spent her days at a conveyor belt inspecting socks.

Sock was excited as it lay flat on the moving belt. It's a new life for me! Maybe if I'm lucky I can serve to be a sock for someone's foot! It beamed bright white,  its soft plumped body of 100% breathable cotton made its way along with other socks towards the scrutinizing eyes of Maria, then into a large crate. 

Oh no. Something is wrong. Sock was quickly snatched up by Maria's short, thick fingers. 

"Hmm. Seems to be a loose string here."  Maria tugged and tugged, to the silent screams of Sock, creating a small hole. 

Frustrated, Maria tossed Sock aside in the reject waste bin. Tortured and ripped, Sock was passed for dead on top of other rejected socks. A few hours later, a janitor named Ricola picked up the waste bin of rejected socks to bring to the infirmary. In mid-dumping of socks into the flames, he was interrupted by a worker saying there was a spill in aisle four that needed to be cleaned up. Sock fell out of the bin on to the ground. The worker that needed the spill cleaned up, Isabella, noticed a perfectly good sock on the floor and put it in her pocket.

When Isabella arrived home, her two beautiful children, Mercedes and Eric, ran up to hug her. Her husband, was a poor thug, and did his best to find work to save up money for their dream to come to America.

Isabella couldn't afford toys for the children, so she pulled out Sock and her sewing kit. She tenderly sewed together Sock's hole. She found two big shiny buttons to make eyes. 

"There, all better. You're SockPuppet now." She grinned, SockPuppet could see! A face of a smiling lady. Those were the golden years. Mercedes, being 3 years old, would bring SockPuppet wherever she went, and family dinners of laughter and great Italian food made the Depression not so bad. One winter night, Isabella's husband said he made a deal with a local Boss that would loan him the money for their move to America.

Isabella was worried, but she knew her husband did his best to provide. The journey on the boat through dangerous waters of the Atlantic were cold and wet. SockPuppet did its best to keep Mercede's hands warm. Finally, with the Statue of Liberty in the distance, SockPuppet arrived.

Years later, in a seedy motel outside of Las Vegas, SockPuppet leaned back on the chair reflecting how Isabella, her husband, and Eric got shot by the bosses men for failing to pay back their loans. Mercedes and SockPuppet survived.