Being a sock does not actually impede Mr. Sock's sense of the value of currency; after all, what little cost-of-living allowance Cord does receive from his mother goes straight to Mr. Sock. (Thus, Cord must figure out “brilliant” schemes with the key ingredient of a lackey more stupid than he if he wants any “spending” -- i.e., pornography, money.) Yet Mr. Sock has taken on the guardianship for a mere annual salary of $2.79. Why? Perhaps, since room and board are included at Cord’s, he feels that he doesn’t need any money for personal effects. (But the number of times the house has been condemned as a toxic waste dump or a fire hazard thanks to Cord’s antics should surely worry Mr. Sock as to the future of their living quarters.) Perhaps there is a greater reason, involving his confidence in his own budding talent as a rehabilitator and another individual in his life who has consistently stolen whatever wind he had under his sails, laughing as she looks down on him from her platform of glory while two-facedly accepting her praise and laurels with a modest smile. Surely if Mr. Sock can save the wretched soul that is Cord Samson, it will be he who has the last laugh? At any rate, he could never admit defeat by giving up on Cord now. Maybe, deep down, Mr. Sock actually feels something for the guy… Or that could be the cocaine Cord threw into his laundry bath in lieu of detergent talking.