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No, nothing so mundane. I like Zee-Zee's conception of "smart wool" so much better. The image of two socks sitting at the bar, ordering shots and leering at pretty girls is so much more satisfying. After about six shots the left sock slurs, "be right back, I gotta go wring myself out". The right sock, we'll call him "Hugo", just nods, swivels on the stool and says to Hazel, the aging cocktail waitress, "Hey, Toots, wanna slip into something more comfortable?".
Hours later, Hugo and Lefty, sodden, unraveled, smelling of scotch, cigarettes and working girls' feet, collapse at Zee-Zee's apartment door, singing "un kilometre a pied" at the top of their voices.
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