You notice your father’s favourite brown leather flip-flops which you always had liked but had never tried on, as they were far too big for your feet.
You remember you’re still wearing the socks. You decide to take the socks off and wear the flip-flops, after all it doesn’t seem like the magic socks are going to work any time soon.
You sit on your parents’ bed, hearing it groan in protest, and you lean forward to reach your feet. This is proving harder than you thought as your ball gut is getting in the way and you’re actually feeling tired from this simple exertion. You manage to pull off the socks. Once again you’re amazed to see just how big and meaty your feet now are as you move your thick toes and their musky odour hits your nose. You slip on the stylish leather flip-flops, your feet falling squarely in the imprint left in them by your dad after habitual use. You still can’t get your head round the fact that your feet are now as large as your dad’s were.
You discard the normal looking sock on your parents’ bed but hold on to the magic sock putting it in your pocket, to hand it on to your dad.
You descend the stairs, the flip-flops flapping with each of your steps, and you see your father putting the handwritten note on the end-table in the hallway. You pick up the note to inspect it. Your dad scribbled a quick note that actually looked much neater than his usual handwriting. “Gone out shopping for new shoes for Will, Love John” It must be the fact that he no longer has those thick, blunt fingers you think to yourself, observing his unusually neat writing, whilst subconsciously observing your new, large paw-like hands.
Your dad seeing you wearing his flip-flops asks “What did you do with the magic sock?”
“Here you can have it,” you tell him fishing it out from your shorts’ pocket and throwing it at him. “Its magic seems to have run out and anyways it fits you better. It was meant for feet your size…”
He clumsily catches it. He removes his ordinary looking sock, exposing his foot. His foot looks so small now from your perspective – you can’t believe your feet were actually that small. He puts on the other magical sock, reuniting the pair of green-threaded socks.
Your dad then slipped on a pair of blue worn skate shoes you had left lying around the hallway. He actually looked like a proper skater teen. You just couldn’t reconcile how your overweight dad was now a hip skater dude.
He heads to the end table to pick up the keys to his Audi.
You mockingly clear your voice and open your palm as if to gesture him to hand you the keys.
“There’s no way you’re driving my Audi. You don’t even have a licence!”
“Well, being 15 and looking like that, yours isn’t valid either. No one in their right mind would believe you’re the middle-aged man in your driver’s licence picture! We’re better off if I drive – we’ll raise less suspicion. People my age usually have a licence,” you add with a smirk.
Reluctantly he hands you the keys and you both head to the car.
Thank goodness you had started driving lessons because otherwise you wouldn’t have had any idea of what to do. You turn the ignition and the engine starts humming.
“I can’t believe I’m letting my 15 year old son drive my Audi,” your dad says out loud whilst shaking his head disapprovingly.
You make your way out of the driveway with some jolts and start driving on the road. Your dad grimaces as if in actual pain every time you put in the wrong gear and he hears the gearbox groaning.
Apart from a few gearbox groans along the way, you finally make it safely to Main Street.