By the sunlit window sat a wicker laundry basket. Warm towels peeked from the top, steaming faintly in the afternoon light.
Whisker hopped right in. He pushed through the warm towels until his nose bumped something bright orange.
It was the bright orange sock. It reeked like old cheese and forgotten soup. A housefly landed on it, wobbled in the air, and buzzed off cross-eyed.
Whisker dragged the sock to the kitchen floor. He stuffed it with crumpled receipt paper and twisted the top into two ears. They flopped sideways like wet noodles.
He batted at the floppy ears. Swish, swish — they swung back and forth. Not bad.
Next, Whisker tried a ball of aluminum foil from the trash. But it crinkled and wouldn't hold its shape. He swiped it away in frustration — clatter!
Under the couch, something red caught his eye. A scrap of yarn. Whisker tugged it free with his teeth.
The yarn wrapped tight around the sock legs. Pop! The ears stood up. The foil belly puffed round. A curly tail formed.
Whisker blinked at his creation. He let out a happy chirp and nudged the sock bunny toward the door.
Whisker carried the stinky sock bunny to the porch and dropped it at his best friend's doorstep.
The door opened. The friend sniffed — eyes went wide — then cracked up laughing. They pulled the bunny into a squeeze.
Whisker sat beside them. His tail wrapped around his paws. Best friends.