Friday, July 07, 2006
Evil Magical Power Panties
Someone I know told me a story yesterday that made me laugh a lot. It's not my story but I have to tell it. The best part is that I know this guy is not a bullshitter. He told me that he used to live in a mountain town in this state. (Yes, I'm "vague-ing out" a little to get you off the trail of his identity, on the off-chance you know him.) Let's call my friend "Steve Johnson."
So Steve had this lady he went to for all of his haircuts. That got along fine, and he knew she was married. But one day, she made a proposal to come to his place the following Wednesday. He told me that she never verbally spelled it out, but that it was well understood that their upcoming encounter was specifically intended to be nothing but an adulterous fuck-date at his apartment. He said that he had always rejected married women but that this one was just too much his type, so he agreed to let her come over the following Wednesday.
Wednesday came. But the lady never did. Steve was pissed that she never showed up, never called, nothing. But he knew he couldn't bitch too much about it, considering that it was someone else's wife. He figured she just had second thoughts or something. Let's call give this woman a good skank name like "Wanda."
So the next week, Steve went to get his hair trimmed, but Wanda wasn't there. He asked the other lady, "So where's Wanda at?" The lady got a real somber look on her face and said "You didn't hear? Poor thing, she's taking some time off to grieve. Her husband died. He worked for the power company. Poor soul, he touched the wrong power line. Happened last Wednesday night." (This is the part in the story where I started laughing like hell. Yeah, I'm sick. So sue me.)
So here's how I picture it must have gone down: Wanda's getting ready at her apartment, putting on her best skank perfume, got her bank-teller hair all 3 feet high, got her best skank panties on (I picture those ones like those bikinis from the 1980's that make your pussy look like it's one inch wide but three feet tall - you know where the waistline is almost above the belly button?), all the while rationalizing in her head that it's her husband's fault that she's whoring around with her customers from the hair salon. Then she gets the knock at the door.
"Wanda, we're so sorry. There's no right way, to tell you...blah blah blah." Having her husband die at the exact moment she was planning to cheat on him had to have some effect on Wanda's psyche. I bet she burned those panties. Or was she so sick that she looked at them as "magical evil power panties" - panties that had the power to kill anyone she wanted as long as she wronged them while wearing them? Or did she think that God would forever give her reverse punishments? Like, every time she fucked someone over, they would die, instead of her, and she would be forced to live through the grief and guilt. She definitely didn't maximize her mental illness potential, because if she had, she would have said this to herself: "Oh poor me! I'm now a widow....which means technically I'm single. So it's now okay if go over to Steve's house and do it with him. After all, I'm a grieving widow and need comfort. Plus, I look sooo hot in these supertallpussy panties."
Hey, I wonder if she fears that her husband's newly dead ghost came in and saw her plotting to do it with my Steve. Would he haunt her every time she put on the evil power-panties ? I hope so. That would be so funny. Just like adultery is funny. And people being electrocuted is funny. Hey, shut up. It's funny if you're me. I didn't know the guy. I didn't nail his wife. Quit being so "Oh, that's wrong," and let me laugh. I play fair. I promise you can laugh at my death whenever it happens. In fact, I insist.