It was another swelteringly hot day deep in My sock drawer. The socks were getting restless, and many were falling unconscious because of the intense heat. Their cruel boxer-brief taskmasters pushed them to the breaking point over and over, their thirst for sock blood seemingly insatiable.

Miguel The Sock had been laboring all day, beside his fourteen crew cut sock children. His youngest, Pedro, had been running a slight fever that morning. Miguel glanced over to his son, the jewel of his life, and saw him fall. Panicking, he rushed over to his son, but it was already too late... The life had been drained out of him by his cruel oppressors. Miguel bitterly remembered that morning, when he pleaded with his wife that the Boxer foreman allow his son to rest the day, and the Underwear's cruel and laconic refusal.

Rage welled up in Miguel The Sock like a fountain of blood. They had taken the last thing from him that they would ever get. Miguel siezed up his Pointy Stick of The People and, crying, "Solidarity, comrades!" Led a coup d'etat and established a provisional Communist government.

Miguel unfortunately turned out to be an asshole and, for all his talk of "Power to the Proletariat," he was just a paranoid and power-mad dictator who plunged The Banana Republic of My Sock Drawer into decades of bloody conflict and the oppression.

This has been a fable about Communism brought to you by The letter C.

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