Frank’s favourite blue socks with yellow snails have vanished, and the washing machine seems to be hiding something far sillier than dirty laundry.
Frank had one very important job that morning: find his favourite blue socks with the yellow snails. He pulled open the drawer.
One sock sat there by itself, looking lonely. The other was gone.
Frank checked under the bed. Nothing. He peered inside a shoe. Just a dusty corner and a sneaky little fluff ball.
Then he heard it.
A tiny giggle.
It was coming from the bathroom.
Frank tiptoed to the door and pushed it open a crack. Under the washing machine, a strip of blue cloth poked out like a tongue. Before he could blink, the machine gave a wobble.
Bump.
Bump-bump.
Then POP!
A whole parade of socks shot out from underneath, spinning and skidding across the floor. One wore a foam hat. Another was doing a wobble-dance. And there, right in the middle, was the sock with the yellow snails, marching along as if it had planned everything.
The socks all turned at once and stared at Frank.
Then the sock with the snails lifted one toe and pointed behind him.
Frank froze.
His mum’s hand was already on the bathroom door handle.