Have you ever wondered where your missing socks go? I know I have, when I find a single red and white striped sock in my wash-basket I sit and I think,

Now, where's the other one?

It's a mystery to me, or should I say it was. I've found out what happens to those missing odd socks. I thought at first, probably just as you are,

Ah well, I must have lost it when I went swimming, or spent a night at a friend's. Or Mum didn't pair them up and left them lying about.

But it's not Mum! Honest! It isn't even the washing machine, or the tumble dryer! (They sometimes get the blame too, don't they?). I actually caught sight of the thing that's steals socks one day. 'Thing?' you ask. Oh yes, it's a thing. It's an animal you see, a bit like a mouse. Everyone knows that mice like to steal cheese, and make Mums jump up on a chair and scream. Well, I'll tell you, I fairly jumped and almost screamed when I saw the thing that was pilfering my favourite foot warmers!

At first I thought it was just the neighbour's cat under my bed. She comes in sometimes and curls up on my duvet when it's raining. Her name is Delia and she's got a lovely black coat with pretty white feet. But it wasn't her at all, it was a strange little creature a bit smaller than a cat, though it was furry and fluffy - like something that you tidy up from under the bed or from behind an old fridge.

It had a nose like a rat, except longer and hairier, and at the end of this nose were wet, slimy nostrils. It was sniffing quite loudly, snuffling for something, and had a long tail like a curious possum. A possum is an animal that lives in Australia, and looks a little bit like a cat and a badger all rolled into one. It hides up in trees and hangs from the branches (If you find a picture of one somewhere, you'll know what I mean.).

The creature was standing up on its back legs under my bed (that gives you an idea of just how big that it was), and with its little front paws it was shoving a sock into a fat little pouch on its belly. A pouch like a kangaroo, which seemed quite full, so I was more than suspicious that it had pinched most of my socks. Before I could blink though, and think about pulling it from under my bed, I saw something else quite extraordinary.

It turned to look at me as I was peering, and it had the most bright and shiny green eyes. But what made me look twice was that between those eyes was a curved horn, just like a rhinoceros! And on the end of this horn was the last of my black cotton socks, and it was looking for more! (Which isn't such a great idea, because my socks whiff a good deal.)

After spotting me watching it, the small animal squeaked in alarm. It dashed away promptly, scampering out from under the bed and through my open bedroom window. I shouted, "STOP! THIEF!" and followed it fast, but it had made good its escape in record speed. I knew at once that I had found out the reason why my socks were quickly disappearing. I had seen the rare and unique Fallacious Snaffle!

Now after my run in with the real reason why all my socks were odd, I set to thinking about this Fallacious Snaffle. Why had it chosen me to steal socks from? Perhaps it liked the smell of them? That couldn't be the reason, my socks really smelled. Like cheese and stale biscuits and rotten dog food all rolled into one. Well the dirty ones did. Not the clean ones. They smelled like lavender, or aloe vera, or something else flowery.

I had to think,

How do I stop this Snaffle from snatching my socks?!

It turned out the snatchersome Snaffle liked the red ones better than blue, woolly was favoured to thin cotton blends, the ones with holes to the ones without. I think he must have been making a nest, but I couldn't be sure. He might have been eating them for all I knew, but I'd tasted a sock of mine once, a boy at school decided he'd stuff it into my mouth when I was getting changed to play sports. It wasn't very funny at the time, and I can't imagine anything else enjoying it much either!

I decided to lure the Snaffle away from my socks to a place where there were more. Just down the road there was a shop I sometimes go, when I've broken my washer or the job's just too big. A launderette - a place to wash clothes. And it was there that I'd send my Fallacious Snaffle, to seek out a heavenly place full of socks!

So that very night, I crept from the house, a smelly bag of socks gripped tight in my hands. As I went I dropped a sweaty garment onto the road. By the time I had reached the place where they wash, I'd left more than a dozen socks out on the street. There were some on my stairs, and down through my lounge. But the tastiest of all I'd left until last; a pungent sports sock, woolly and red, a hole in the toe - just right for a Snaffle.

I hid behind the place where you buy your detergent, and waited to see if the Snaffle took the bait. It was quiet that evening, and not very dark, and it wasn't too long before I heard some snuffling about. There he was! The Snaffle had found the last sock. He had a grin on his face and his eyes grew so huge as he crept in the door of the washing clothes shop. He scampered about and found a few more of the socks that he loved, and none of them mine, I hasten to add!

I happily slipped out the door and back home, content in my knowing the Snaffle was at last in a place where he'd never run out of the socks he adored. I have taken to putting my dirty socks all in one place though - a little Snaffle Bin, just for the furry little creature I sometimes catch sight of now and again out of the corner of my eye. But I don't have to worry about having odd socks anymore. Well, almost never...