The Psychotic Cheesy Sock

Chapter 4 : Second Chances

He was finally inside Wurrinuns house. The excitement building inside of him. Although he was completely lost in Wurrinuns house. Every room seemed to be the same; test tubes, beakers, strange liquids and the odd lab rat. Live and dead ones. The green mould from the wall gave off a putrid stink and the ancient wallpapers tried peeling themselves off. The sock gawped in awe at the variety of coloured substances scattered around. He was curious of Wurrinuns real job or relation to Mr Smith, it seemed a greater force was at play.

James Wurrinun. He sat down at his paper filled desk, tears streaming onto the countless important documents. He slammed the desk with his fists. The once nervous man was overflowing with emotion, making him swipe the clutter off the desk in one stroke. Unable to accept the tragic loss he gripped the picture of Mr Smith which had been knocked onto the floor. His uncontrollable sobbing had been stabled by the innocence of the image. It was of the both of them next to their first Animator prototype. It was a glorious day, back then they didn't know it was going to be a prototype, they thought they had the achieved their dream. But on showing the young scientists at the lab they were mocked and sneered at.
"If only it had worked" James forced back more tears and threw the picture on the floor again. He felt weak from crying, as we all do. Combined with his age he felt it difficult to breathe over the sobs. What he would do to bring Mr Smith back... That's when it hit him.

Suddenly he heard the small yet sharp sound of glass breaking. His face wet with tears but his eyes darting around the room. It could be anyone; loan sharks, the bank, thieves or possibly... The sock. Whoever it was James Wurrinun was prepared with a cliche looking ray gun, hidden behind lock and key in his desk.

A little bit too eager in science the sock had knocked over a small vial of purple and green liquid. He jumped from the table to the floor and edged around the mess left on the concrete floor. Trying not to further dirty his army green camouflage skin, he sought higher ground. Climbing up a nearby desk leg he was able to scan the area for any clues, mainly where did Wurrinun keep his socks.
"Where does Wirrinun keep his socks." he thought over and over again, walking all the way down one desk then hopping over to another next to it. "If I were a sock where would I be?" he guffawed at this terribly ironic joke and had to lean against a beaker to steady himself. Although he abruptly stopped when he heard the sound of the beaker crash against the floor.

James was creeping down the stairs, holding the gun up to his head like he was in a 007 film. The stairs seemed that they would never end, or rather James was going so slow that if he went any slower he'd go backwards! Finally he reached the bottom step, he took a deep but quiet breath, and peered round the wall carefully. A little sigh left his thin lips. No one, or possibly nothing. Although he didn't see any breakages, in this room. He knew his house like the back of his hand. To him it wasn't a house, it was a lair. He was going to find this thing one way or another, and when he did... He fiddled the safety switch off and walked across the room.

The sock had become alert now, he had just heard something click. He looked back on the two messes he had made, and tried to plan his next move. He couldn't find any cabinets with socks, so he would have to pry them off the dead cold feet of the accused clicker. After some quick strategical thinking the sock valiantly jumped to another table closer to the door. He was moving towards the door less doorway.

James had crossed the room and was now a step away from the doorway. He had been edging along the side of the concrete wall and on his left lay the next room. "He might not even be in there" he mentally reassured himself. His sweaty finger now over the trigger. He could hear his heart beating and he desperately tried to calm himself down, thinking the assailant could hear his heart. Although he was sweating he could feel the coldness of the concrete wall he was leaving against. He started preparing himself for the next step.

If the sock could see through walls he would notice that (excluding the wall) he was back to back to Wurrinun himself. His plan was perfect. Although none of his previous plans ever went well. He was determined to execute this plan efficiently, smoothly and cleanly. Just like his first kill.

Wurrinun forced his foot to move and stormed into the room. The sock stuck to the wall tighter, almost shocked stiff seeing the courage on Wurrinuns face. Although Wurrinun was too busy thinking about this intruder, so much so that he don't notice the too distinct spillages in the floor. He slipped in the first one, which was the second one the sock had dropped first. The sock, frightened to the ends if his little threads, looked at him with horror. After a exhilarating display of slipping and sliding. He fell face first into the mixture of glass and liquid. The sock cringed watching Wurrinun squirm in pain. But it was too late for him. The glass pierced his skin and the substance entered his blood stream. It would only be a matter of time. He managed to pull himself together and go to Wurrinun, who was still trembling face first onto the chemical. The sock skilfully took off his shoes, and finally his socks. All sympathy that could have been in the sock was wiped away when he was reacquainted with the fact that Wurrinun wore two different socks.
"You disgust me." spat the sock, looking at the cold dry eyes of Wurrinun. "Huh, James." thought the sock looking at the small badge pierced into his lab coat. "I like Wurrinun better."

In a much more different place, all he'll had broken loose. Sirens were ringing, men were shouting, dogs were barking.
"Red alert! Red alert! Prisoner 174 has escaped the mental institute! We need all men here NOW!"
"Quick lock the doors!"
"No get the squad in!"
"The squad will never make it in time, the prisoner will have escaped!"
"Like locking a door will make any difference, how do you think the prisoner got out in the first place?"
"Will you two guys SHUT THE HELL UP NOW?!"
Both techs gulped heavily and swivelled around their chairs to face the monster known as their boss. His eyes were red, his neck thick and if you looked closely enough you could almost see little horns growing from the sides of his bald head.
"Now tell me you numbskulls, what's this prisoners name."
"It's that woman sir, Mrs Smith."
"That's right sir, her husband was apparently killed by socks."
The boss stood there, using his thumb and his index finger to massage his muscular eyebrows.
"What on earth does she want?" he asked himself. One of the techies brought up a video of here punching a guard. She was audibly screaming,

"I'll get that sock, if it's the last thing I do!"

Sorry for taking so loooong! I guess exams n all are catching up with me :O well a very emotional chapter, hope you all enjoy and keep up to date with the sock story! Thank you for reading :)