Chapter Fifteen
Socks
“Making a man a slave is as easy as picking a nail.”—Bette
Six months of sock-burning had Bette staring out the window wondering what had gone wrong.
She listened to Legless, and when that didn’t work, she marched, paraded, and bellowed in suits with shoulder pads as wide as a barn door, and did that stop ‘em? Make a difference? They still burnt their frigging socks.
It was time for something different, a new phase of ruling, a better plan.
Kate joined Bette at the window.
In the distance, they could see smoldering smoke at the feet of Wife-ie’s obelisk.
“Socks, I presume,” muttered Bette.
“Legless calls it a mere skirmish,” said Bigwig One.
Kate rolled her eyes.
“I’ve seen bigger skirmishes on a toilet seat,” said Bigwig Two.
“Ignore it. They’re bound to
