it's the socks.
without calves, the socks would fall about my ankles, revealing a pathetic butter knife taped to my leg, the only knife i own.
the floppy socks are a look that only pistol pete could pull off and he's dead.
the butter knife would be a crane clan embarassment.
and the idea of eight yards of wool wrapped around my butt sends me into skin rash hysteria.
i think i'm better suited for togas quite honestly.
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