Stanley and the Football Sock

by Stephanie Dagg

and the Football Sock

  by

  Stephanie J Dagg

  Copyright 2011 Stephanie J Dagg

  Stanley and the Football Sock

  “Stanley Thomas Ian Nigel Kevin Smith!” shouted Mum.

  “Uh-oh!” thought Stanley. “I’m in trouble. A lot of trouble!”

  Stanley could always tell how much trouble he was in from how many of his six names Mum used. Stanley on its own meant no trouble. Stanley Thomas meant a bit. Stanley Thomas Ian was getting more serious. Stanley Thomas Ian Nigel was something to start worrying about. Stanley Thomas Ian Nigel Kevin meant at the very least no pocket money for a week. But add the surname too and that spelt TROUBLE. (Actually, as you’ve probably noticed, it spells STINKS. Stanley was named after his uncles. Sadly his mum and dad didn’t think very carefully about the order they gave the names to Stanley in. No prizes for guessing Stanley’s nickname.)

  Stanley sighed. He’d better go and find out what he’d done this time. He had a good idea though. He hadn’t meant to cut that hole in the carpet. It was just that he’d been cutting out shapes for his school project while lying on the floor watching television on Monday. He hadn’t realised he’d been snipping away at the carpet as well as a piece of cardboard. He’d covered the hole up with some books and hoped that Mum wouldn’t tidy them up just yet. Oh, and he hadn’t meant to break the Blu-Ray on Wednesday. He’d just wondered if you could get two DVDs into it at once. Or perhaps Mum had found where he’d been hiding his cheese sandwiches every day since the beginning of term. Mum gave him cheese sandwiches for his school dinner every day and every day Stanley didn’t eat them. He hated cheese sandwiches only he didn’t dare tell Mum that. So every day, when he got home, he stuffed the uneaten sandwiches under the loose floorboard in the spare room. It was getting a bit smelly in there, Stanley had noticed. Maybe Mum had noticed the same thing.

  But to Stanley’s amazement Mum wasn’t cross about those things. Well, not today anyway — she’d be mad all right when she did find out. Mum was cross about something else.

  “Where is your sock?” she demanded as Stanley slunk guiltily into the kitchen.

  “On my foot,” announced Stanley. He checked quickly. Yes, he had two socks on.

  “Not your school sock, silly boy. I mean your football sock. I only got one to wash last Saturday. It’s football practice again tomorrow so I need to wash the other one NOW! No sock, no football practice.” Mum turned back crossly to sorting out the washing.

  Stanley slunk out again quickly. Crikey! He’d forgotten all about that football sock. Now, where could it be? Stanley frowned hard in concentration.

  Suddenly his face cleared. After football practice last week he’d gone home with Thomas Tonks for the rest of the day. He remembered that he and Thomas had been playing in the garden. They’d kicked Thomas’s football into the next-door neighbour’s garden, as usual, but he wouldn’t let them have it back. So then they’d played with a tennis ball until Thomas kicked that into the next-door neighbour’s garden on the other side. She wouldn’t let them have that back either. So then Stanley had taken off one of his football socks. He’d rolled it into a ball and they’d had a great game with that until teatime.

  “It must still be in Thomas’s garden!” smiled Stanley. He marched triumphantly to the kitchen.

  “Mum, I left my sock at Thomas’s last Saturday. Can I cycle round and get it?”

  “Good boy!” Mum was pleased. “Yes, off you go, but watch out for traffic.”

  Grinning happily Stanley zoomed off to Thomas’s on his bike. But Thomas wasn’t in. Thomas’s Mum said she hadn’t come across a sock. She called Louise, Thomas’s sister.

  “Louise, have you seen Stanley’s football sock anywhere?” she asked.

  “No!” replied Louise immediately. Then she went a bit red and said, “Well, maybe, sort of.”

  “Sort of?” repeated her mum, frowning. “What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”

  Stanley wanted to know what she meant too. Louise took a deep breath.

  “Well, Tommy and I went collecting conkers from the wood on Sunday. We saw your sock in the garden on our way, Stanley. We took it with us in case we saw you in the woods too. But we didn’t so we, er, borrowed your sock to put all the conkers in to bring them home.”

  “Oh dear, Stanley, I’m so sorry,” apologised Louise’s Mum. “But where is the sock now, Louise?”

  Louise squirmed. “We met Neil Nelson as we were coming back and he said he’d thump us if we didn’t give him the sock full of conkers, so we did.”

  “What a horrid boy!” exclaimed Louise’s Mum.

  “I expect he’s got your sock, Stanley,” shrugged Louise.

  Stanley groaned. Neil Nelson was the school bully. He was big and mean and stupid and nasty. Stanley didn’t fancy trying to get his sock back off him. But then he remembered that Mum had threatened him with no football practice tomorrow if he didn’t find his sock. There was nothing for it.

  “Thanks Louise,” he muttered, and cycled nervously off to confront Neil Nelson.

  He didn’t have far to go. He met Neil Nelson walking along the road looking big and mean and stupid and nasty, as usual.

  Stanley wobbled to a stop.

  “Er, hi Neil,” he squeaked. His voice always went squeaky when he was frightened. He wished it wouldn’t.

  “Whatcha want, squirt?” snarled Neil.

  “Um, do you remember Thomas Tonks giving you a sock full of conkers on Sunday?” asked Stanley squeakily.

  “Yeah. So?”

  “I wonder, do you know where the sock is now? You see, it’s my sock and I need it for football practice tomorrow and my mum’s really mad about it.”

  This was a long sentence for Neil’s brain to cope with. So it was a good thirty seconds before Stanley got a response.

  “Yeah, mums always get mad about stuff don’t they,” observed Neil bitterly. Stanley was surprised at such a sympathetic response. He’d expected to be thumped.

  Stanley waited. Neil was still thinking.

  “Oh yeah, that sock. It was green and white wasn’t it?”

  Stanley nodded eagerly.

  “That was the day Valley Rovers won the league, wasn’t it? Their colours are green and white too so I tied your sock onto the aerial of Dad’s car. I think it’s really cool when people do stuff like that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, yes, really cool,” agreed Stanley, but he was actually thinking that it wasn’t at all cool when it was his sock that was being used. “Er, so is it still on your dad’s car then?”

  “Nah, it came off when Dad went to work on Monday,” Neil informed him.

  “Um, where exactly?” Stanley knew he was pushing his luck asking so many questions. Either Neil would get mad with him or his brain would burn up at being used so much.

  “Just down the road. I couldn’t tie a proper knot in your stupid sock,” growled Neil.

  No, you’re too stupid to tie a proper knot, thought Stanley.

  “It went into someone’s garden.” Neil was being amazingly helpful. “The Head Master’s I think.” Neil gave a nasty smile. He loved getting other people into trouble.

  “Are … are you sure?” stammered Stanley.

  “Yeah, now shut up, squirt, you’re giving me a headache.” And with that, Neil tramped off down the road to pick on someone much smaller than he was.

  Oh heck, thought Stanley. I’ve got to go and see the Head Master now. I do that often enough at school. I shouldn’t have to do it at weekends as well!

  He pedalled a bit further down the lane until he came to Mr Duggan’s house. Mrs Duggan was busy in the garden. She caught sight of Stanley hovering outside the garden gate.


  “Hello dear!” she called cheerily. She was a very jolly person. “Can I help you? If you’re after my husband, he’s gone to his flower arranging class.”

  What? Mr Duggan flower arranging? Stanley was stunned. Stanley could imagine the big, cross Head Master eating flowers or stomping on them, but not arranging them prettily in a vase. Well, well, that was news for his friends on Monday! For now, though, he was extremely grateful that Mr Duggan was safely out of the way.

  “I think my sock blew into your garden on Monday,” Stanley explained.

  Mrs Duggan looked puzzled.

  “You see, I used it as a football on Saturday, and then my friend put conkers in it on Sunday, and then my worst enemy tied it to his dad’s car’s aerial and it came off that on Monday.”

  “Goodness, I never knew socks had such exciting lives!” exclaimed Mrs Duggan. “Yes, we did find a sock, but not till Tuesday. My granddaughter found it, actually. She came here after playschool. It was very dirty so she washed it in