Mister Socky

by Tim Miller

  Mister Socky

  Tim Miller

  Copyright © 2015 Tim Miller

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Chapter 1

  The thrift store was seven-year-old Dusty's favorite place. Most of his clothes came from there. So, every month his mom brought him in to get deals on clothes. Dusty didn't care about the clothes; for him, the thrift store was a treasure trove of toys, gadgets, and other discarded items. As soon as they stepped inside, Dusty took flight to the toy aisle to see what goodies awaited him.

  There was a plastic fire helmet, but he already had one of those. There was a set of binoculars too; they even looked real and carried some weight to them. He picked them up, looking through the lenses. He played with the adjustments, but everything stayed blurry, so he tossed them aside. There were some action figures he didn't recognize, and then he saw it… the monkey.

  The plush sock monkey was almost as big as he was. Its red-lipped smile was at his eye level as he reached up and touched it. The toy was super soft, as he lifted it up and gave it a large bear hug. Its black button eyes stared at him as he looked it over.

  "You're gonna be my new friend," Dusty said. He didn't have many real friends. Kids at school all thought he was weird. He played with his toys and used his imagination, which most kids didn't get. To them, he was just talking to himself. He took his new pal and ran to find his mom. He raced up and down several aisles before finding her looking at shoes. Dusty hoped his mom would get the toy for him. Sometimes she was really agreeable and would get him something cheap. Other times she was more difficult. It helps that he's been pretty good lately. He'd been working on his chores and stayed out of trouble in school; these would all be his selling points.

  "Mommy! Mommy! Look what I found!"

  She looked up and immediately cringed when she saw the stuffed toy.

  "Oh, Dusty. That is hideous."

  "No, it's not! He's my friend Mr. Socky! Can I get him? Please? Please?"

  She held it up and looked at the price sticker. It was only four dollars. Not a bad deal on a toy this size. She just wished it were a teddy bear or something cute. For some reason, he was fascinated with this thing.

  "Oh, I suppose. It's only a few dollars, but it stays in your room. These things creep me out. Deal?"

  "Deal!" he squealed as he jumped up and down with the toy. He walked around hugging it tight as they finished their shopping. When he got home, he ran inside and showed his dad who pretended to be impressed with his new friend.

  "What's his name?" Dusty's dad asked.

  "Mr. Socky!" Dusty said.

  "Clever name. Nice to meet you Mr. Socky!"

  Dusty ran to his room and closed the door. He sat Mr. Socky in his little chair next to his desk and dug out some action figures.

  "Check it out Mr. Socky, these are my superheroes. I got a bunch of them. You can play with them too, but just make sure you put them back when you're done ok? Cool!"

  Dusty took one of his die cast airplanes and pretended to fly it around the room making jet noises. He flew it by Mr. Socky's head making it bounce off the top and into a pretend explosion along the wall. After several more minutes of playing, he grabbed Mr. Socky and jumped onto his bed. Within a few minutes, he was sound asleep.

  Down the hall, his mom, Justine worked on getting dinner ready. She wasn't in the mood for any lengthy cooking, so she was making spaghetti. Once she had the water boiling, she placed the pasta into the pot and headed through the hallway to use the bathroom. When she returned, the burner on the stove had turned off.

  "What the hell?" she walked into the kitchen, and Dusty's sock monkey toy was sitting in the corner. What is that kid doing?

  "Dusty? Dusty where are you? This isn't funny. You know you're not to touch the stove." There was no answer as she looked around. Her husband, Dave stepped into the kitchen looking amused.

  "Who are you talking to?" Dave asked.

  "I think Dusty is hiding around here. When I wasn't looking he shut off the stove and left his stupid sock monkey lying here," she explained. "Unless it was you trying to fuck with me."

  "Dusty is asleep, I just walked by his room. And no it wasn't me. I was just outside getting the mail. You got something from your mom it looks like." He held up a greeting card sized envelope and tossed it to her.

  "Well, I don't know then. Just go put this back in his room, please? It creeps me out." She handed him the toy as he laughed and turned down the hallway. He got inside Dusty's room and sat Mr. Socky on his chair. As he was walking out of the room, he heard something shuffling behind him. He turned around, and the sock monkey was sitting upright on the floor next to the chair.

  "What the hell?" He walked over and put it back into the chair. "Fucking weird ass toy. You're not haunted are you?" The toy sat there motionless. Dave looked at the black button eyes and red mouth. He thought that mouth appeared covered in blood. Who would invent such a toy for kids? He put it back in the chair and walked out of the room. Just as he reached the door, he stopped and turned around quickly, but the toy hadn't moved. Mr. Socky was still sitting in the chair. Dusty was sound asleep on his bed snoring softly.

  Dave walked out of the room and closed the door. Justine tended to overreact, but he had to admit, the thing was freaky. Either way, Dave wasn't superstitious. He didn't believe in ghosts or even God for that matter. It made life much simpler. Justine didn't notice him go into the kitchen and grab a can of soda from the fridge. He popped the top and headed to the living room. There was a basketball game on coming on he'd been looking forward to. As he reached the living room, Mr. Socky was sitting in his easy chair smiling at him with its blank, red-lipped smile.

  Chapter 2

  When Dusty woke up, Mr. Socky was in bed with him. He wasn't sure how he got there, but was happy his new friend was right by him. Mr. Socky also made a good pillow. It was early evening; he was surprised he'd slept for so long. He jumped out of bed, Grabbed Mr. Socky and headed into the living room. His mom and dad were there watching TV.

  "Hey sport!" his dad called out. "Have a good nap?"

  "Yeah. Mr. Socky got lonely and took a nap with me."

  His mom and dad looked at each other.

  "What's for dinner?"

  "I made spaghetti, one of your favorites," his mom said.

  "Yay! Can Mr. Socky have some too?"

  "Sure, I guess so. Plenty of dinner for everyone. It will be ready in a few minutes."

  "Yay!" he said as he ran back to his room and closed the door. He sat Mr. Socky down and sat on the floor as he dumped out his Matchbox cars.

  "Want to race Mr. Socky? I got lots of cars. Which car do you want?" Dusty held up a few and looked at his palm and picked out a red one. "Here! How about this one?"

  He put the cars on the floor and began speeding back and forth with them. He ran them along the carpet, and then up the side of the chair and along Mr. Socky's leg. He rolled the cars along Mr. Socky's head and down his back.

  "That hurts," a voice said. Dusty stopped and looked around.

  "Hello?" Dusty called out, but there was no reply. He shrugged it off and went back to playing.

  "I said that hurts!" the voice was a little boy's voice, not too unlike his own. Dusty jumped back and looked at Mr. Socky.

  "Mr. Socky? Is that you? Can you talk?"

  "Yes," Mr. Socky said as he turned his head, looking right at Dusty.

  "Wow!" Dusty took a step bac
k. He wasn't sure if he should be scared or excited. A talking sock monkey? He didn't think it was even possible.

  "How can you talk?" Dusty asked.

  "I could always talk. No one is ready to listen."

  Dusty wasn't sure what that meant, but it was so cool his sock monkey could talk.

  "Awesome! I have to show mom and dad!" he grabbed Mr. Socky who called out.

  "Wait! They can't know."

  "They can't? Why?"

  "They won't understand. Adults never do. Then they'll try to take me away again. Do you want them to take me away?"

  "No."

  "Do you want to be my best buddy forever?"

  "Yeah!" Dusty said.

  "Good. Then this has to be our secret."

  "Dusty?" his mom asked as she swung the door open. "Who are you talking to?"

  "Uh, no one mom, just playing."

  "You sure? I thought I heard someone in here."

  She looked around and stared at Mr. Socky, but immediately looked away.

  "No, it was just me."

  "Ok, dinner is ready so come join us."

  Dusty grabbed Mr. Socky and headed out to the kitchen. He put Mr. Socky on a chair next to his. He could tell his mom was annoyed by it but ignored her. No reason why his new friend couldn't sit with him.

  "Dusty, why don't you leave Mr. Socky in your room? You can play with him after dinner," she said.

  "But you said there was enough for him."

  "I know. It's just…that thing is creepy looking. Like right now. It's like he's staring at me. Please put it away?"

  "Mom!"

  "Hey, the monkey isn't hurting anything. Want to sit over here? Then you won't have to look at it."

  She shook her head and walked around the table as his dad took her seat, so she was facing away from Mr. Socky. The rest of dinner was quiet. Once he was done, Dusty ran to the bathroom. As he jumped down, Mr. Socky fell to the floor. Without thinking, Dusty's mom picked him up by the arm and sat him on the chair. She was looking at her husband about to say something when she felt something sharp on her finger.

  She yanked her finger away and looked at the blank smile on Mr. Socky's face as she came to the realization what just occurred.

  "What the hell?" she said.

  "What happened," Dave asked.

  "I think this thing just bit me!"

  "What?"

  "This stupid sock monkey. I picked it up off the floor and got him situated in the chair, and look at my finger." She held up the injured fingertip that was now running with blood down her arm.

  "You sure you didn't poke yourself with a knife? Is there any pins or anything sticking out of that thing?"

  "No David. There is nothing like that. You were sitting right there."

  "Yeah, but I didn't see the stuffed toy bite you."

  She stood and walked to the sink, rinsing the blood off her hand. Once it was clean, Dusty came back and grabbed Mr. Socky. She wanted to protest and tell him to throw it away but knew better. Both Dusty and her husband would think she was crazy. Maybe it didn't bite her. Maybe there was something sticking out of it. Not like she checked it. No way was she touching it now.

  Dusty skipped back to his room with the new toy. Justine watched as she dried her hand and wrapped gauze around it. She had one idea; just wait until Dusty went to sleep. Sneak in and grab the thing and throw it in the trash. She'd make up something to tell her son later. He'd be upset, but she'd take him out to buy something else. The thing had only been in her home a few hours and was already freaking her out. She'd rather get him a clown doll than this hideous thing.

  She went to her room and closed the door. As she removed her shirt and bra, she looked at herself in the long mirror on the closet door. Justine wasn't a vain person, but in her mid-thirties she occasionally took the time to look her body over. Her stomach had a bit of a pouch, but nothing she couldn't live with. Her breasts were still full and had some perk to them. Something she was quite proud of. She grabbed her nightshirt from the closet and pulled it on. As she closed the closet door, she screamed when she saw Mr. Socky's reflection in the mirror, sitting in the chair just behind her.

  Chapter 3

  Dusty took Mr. Socky to school for show and tell. Much to his surprise, his mom didn't try to stop him. She said she was glad to have it out of the house. Once he got to school, he sat with Mr. Socky by his desk until show and tell, this was where he got really excited to show off his new friend. When it was finally his turn, he grabbed Mr. Socky and ran up to the front of the class.

  "This is my new friend; his name is Mr. Socky. We got him at a thrift store because his old family didn't want him. But now he's happy with me."

  "That thing is ugly," one girl said from the front row. Her name was Jenny; she was a popular girl who always thought Dusty was weird. Although, most kids said he was weird.

  "He's not ugly! He's a very handsome fellow." Dusty replied.

  "Sock Monkeys are for babies," Brandon Johnson said from the corner.

  "Aren't you a little old to play with dolls?" Another kid said.

  "He plays with dolls because no real kids will play with him. Loser." Another girl called out as the other kids erupted with laughter.

  "Now class that is enough of that!" Mrs. Garett called out. Dusty's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and sadness as his classmates laughed and mocked him. He grabbed Mr. Socky and ran out the door.

  "Dusty!" Mrs. Garrett called out from behind him, but he ignored her as he ran. He ran into the bathroom and to one of the stalls. He sat on the floor against the stall hugging Mr. Socky and crying. Why were they always so mean to him? He never hurt any of them, but all they did was laughed and teased.

  "I'm sorry Mr. Socky. I still love you. And I know you're my friend."

  "That's right Dusty," Mr. Socky said. "I am your friend, and I always will be."

  Dusty stopped crying when Mr. Socky spoke. It was the first time he'd spoken in a few days.

  "Those kids need to pay Dusty. They are very evil."

  "They're just mean," Dusty said.

  "No. They aren't just mean. They are evil. They want to hurt you. Can't you tell?"

  Dusty wasn't sure what he was talking about.

  "No? What do you mean?"

  "They're going to hurt you Dusty. That's what happened with my old family. The kids picked on the boy like they did you… until they hurt him really bad and put him in the hospital. They threw me in the trash after they were done. Thankfully, someone found me and took me to the thrift store. Do you want to go to the hospital Dusty?"

  "No," he was starting to feel scared. "I don't want to get beat up."

  "How about me? You want me to go into the trash?"

  "No way. You're my best friend."

  "Good. So, you need to do something Dusty. You need to get them before they get you."

  "I can't hurt them. I'll get in trouble."

  "Do you want to die? Do you want your family to die? That is what these kids want. Every last one of them. You need to protect yourself and your family, Dusty. I can help you. I can help you get them."

  "What? Get them how?"

  "Listen to me very carefully," Mr. Socky said.

  Dusty sat at listened closely to Mr. Socky's instructions. Once he was done, Dusty slipped out of the bathroom and ran down the hall and out the door. There was a set of bushes a block away from the school. It was the usual route he took home along with some of the other boys. He found a branch nearby that was roughly the size of a baseball bat. Dusty ducked behind the bush holding the branch. Mr. Socky was next to him as they waited. After twenty minutes, they arrived. It was Jenny and Brandon. They often walked home together holding hands. They were smiling and giggling at something. They were probably laughing at him. Dusty was sure most of the kids as school laughed and made fun of him whenever he wasn't around. They were getting closer to Dusty's hiding place. Most other kids had already passed by, but Mr. Socky said to wait on these two.

 
Brandon and Jenny were the two most popular kids in his class. You wouldn't think there would be such a thing in second grade, but every grade level had its own food chain. These two were always that instigators of Dusty's harassment and the rest of the kids followed suit. Thus, Mr. Socky's idea was to eliminate these two, and the rest would respect him. Dusty wasn't sure about this, he'd never been violent or been in any fights, but he wanted to please Mr. Socky.

  Once the couple had barely passed the bush, Dusty jumped out and swung the branch as hard as he could, striking Brandon in the back of the head. He fell to the ground, looking up at Dusty both confused and afraid. Dusty was stunned at the sick thud the branch made against the back of Brandon's head. He could feel Brandon's skull give way as he'd struck him. Dusty brought the branch down several times, striking him in the face and chest. He just kept beating the boy and didn't want to stop. Much to his surprise, he was enjoying himself. Brandon grunted as blood poured from his nose and mouth. Jenny screamed as Dusty brought the branch around, hitting her in the stomach.

  She went down as he struck her head and body with it repeatedly. Her face caved in until it didn't look like Jenny anymore. She didn't even look human. The more he hit her, the more her face turned purple and misshapen as blood oozed from her eyes and nose. Dusty only stopped when a police car pulled up. He dropped the branch and looked at Mr. Socky, who was now sitting in front of the bushes as if he were watching the whole thing. One of the officers grabbed Dusty and pushed him up against the car while the other stopped and stared at the two kids on the ground.

  "Jesus Christ!" he said.

  "Are they dead?" the other cop asked.

  The one by the bodies knelt down. Brandon was blowing bubbles with each shallow breath as blood trickled out of his mouth.

  "The boy is still breathing. Get an ambulance here now!"

  The other cop got on his radio and called for an ambulance. He didn't handcuff Dusty since his wrists are too small, but he pushed him into the car.

  "Jesus kid," the cop said to Dusty. "What the hell is wrong with you? They might die."