Bum Undies

I hate bum undies! Those are the ones that go right up your bum crack and slide back up the moment you try to pull them out. But they disguise themselves as regular undies by not actually being thong design. Sometimes you can be shopping for undies and you hold up a pair of bum undies and they look exactly like comfy knickers, so you can buy them by accident and then the first time you wear them you discover that they have a bum hole magnet in them (and it is magnetically North while your bum hole is a magnetic South pole). Too late! You can’t return them so they get relegated to the back of your undies drawer. Everyone has a buttload of bum undies in the relegation zone of their underwear drawer, and you can’t throw them out because they’re too new, and you can’t give them to the charity store because no one buys second hand undies from charity stores, so the only way to get rid of them is those once-in-a-blue-moon collection sacks from your door — the ones where they collect all clothes, not just the good ones that they can sell in their charity stores. Seriously, stuff that they can drop from helicopters to people in third world country disaster zones after earthquakes and floods because thousands of people are homeless without clothes and food. In other words, perfectly wearable stuff that no one would buy in a charity shop. In other words, bum undies. It must drive the disaster survivors mad – they’ve lived in ramshackle towns or small farming villages in rural Pakistan/Rwanda/Ickblickistan/etc all their lives, their houses have just been destroyed in a Richter 9 earthquake, they’re hungry and wet from rain, and the mentally retarded Westerners fly over in helicopters every few days dropping sacks full of bum undies expecting people to cloth themselves head to toe in pair after pair of bum undies! Mental!

I have a new method for getting rid of my bum undies. The mud puddle near the train bridge is getting way too deep and slippery from all the rain, and there is no way past, you can only go through the puddle. So I made a bum undies stepping stone on Thursday with two pairs of bum undies tied together into a ball, and chucked that ball into the mud puddle to use every day as a stepping stone. It won’t get worn out from overuse very quickly because it will only be me using it (anyone sees a pair of knickers discarded in a public place and they generally avoid stepping on them at all costs). Now, I don’t like to litter but occasionally there is a good enough reason to actually break the no-littering code, and it must be said that killing two birds with one stone (the mud puddle and the over occupancy of the undies drawer relegation zone) did make me break the code! I did chuck my bum undies in the mud puddle! It worked as a brilliant stepping stone on the day that I did it, but then it rained all night and the next day the stepping stone had turned into a useless water logged, brown squelchy mess of ex-undies with little effectiveness as a stone.

Conclusion: The path needs gravel, not undies.

© 2021 Crazy Weird Stories