The Panties of Ultimate Feminine Knowledge
It is written (on a scrap of paper half covered in animal debris, don't ask what animal debris is, you wouldn't like the answer,) that there exist on Earth a pair of panties imbued with magical powers. The wearer of these panties is blessed with Ultimate Feminine Knowledge. For generations, these panties have been passed down through maternal lines, granting women a +10 intellect bonus which they have traditionally used to create innovative crochet products, knit booties that fit on tiny baby feet and create arguments with the simple sentence 'you should already know why I am angry at you.'
One day however, a man came upon the panties of Ultimate Feminine Knowledge. He did not know what they were of course, not at first. At first he mistook the carefully wrapped burgundy vintage silk panties for being just another pair of underwear that would be joining his illicit stolen panty collection.
The name of this dubious hero was Bob. Bob served on the local council, voted conservatively and was a panty thief in his spare time. Do not judge Bob too harshly, humans only have so much righteousness to go around and invariably, when a person seems very virtuous indeed, there are bodies buried beneath the turnips. Bob had not gone that far.
The loss of The Panties of Ultimate Feminine Knowledge sent ripples throughout womankind, and instantly pay rates for women dropped 15% below those for men, even in cases where women performed the same tasks as men. For centuries, The Panties of Ultimate Knowledge had maintained equality for women, but once the panties were lost, so too were many of the powers and wiles of femininity. Fortunately, 'The Lipstick of Addled Thought' remained in women's possession and allowed them to continue to believe that they were saving money when they spend hundreds of dollars at sales. So too did 'The Tampon of Vengeance' which is responsible for producing the monthly mania alternated with crushing depression that so many women enjoy.
The moment Bob donned The Panties of Ultimate Feminine Knowledge, he knew there was something different about them. As the thick, soft elastic waistband settled around his waist, he realized that he'd probably left his car keys in the fridge next to the milk. And he'd forgotten to put the toilet seat down. And there were dishes to be done. Why was he just leaving all the dishes out like that? Did he want to catch typhoid? One blinding, startling revelation followed after the other, leaving Bob feeling exhausted and frazzled.
After he'd done the dishes, vacuumed the hallway (there were dust bunnies all along it, how disgusting) and spent a few minutes trapped in a little gentle self loathing, Bob decided to go and stand in the living room with the blinds partially drawn and look through into Mrs Landry's bedroom as he usually did at 6pm on a Tuesday evening after she got in from Tennis practice. Usually Bob would have been consumed with filthy impulses, but whilst wearing The Panties of Ultimate Feminine Knowledge, he found himself less interested in the middle aged divorcee's body and more interested in criticizing her choice of lingerie. 'Doesn't she know it clashes with her nose?' he asked rhetorically to nobody in particular.
Far from enjoying his secret peeking time as he usually would have done, Bob was overcome with critical thoughts. As usual, his binoculars were on the window sill, but instead of focusing them on the corner of the room where Mrs Landry was getting changed, he trained them on her bookshelf. 'Mills and Boon? What was the point of feminism at all!” he tutted to himself.
Disgusted at Ms Landry's poor choice in literature, Bob decided to go have a shower. He'd already had one when he came in, but he felt dirty again. His desire to shower became his saving grace. The moment he stripped off The Panties of Ultimate Feminine Knowledge, his mind became dull. The keen analytical prowess that had consumed his brain dissipated in the cool evening air and he blinked like a man who has seen a very bright light and now has the image of it burned under his eyelids. Things were different. Better. No longer did the toothpaste on the mirror offend him to his very core. No more did he feel the need to carefully pluck at his eyebrows in order to feel as if he deserved to be part of decent society. He stopped wondering if his best friend Bernard really liked him at all.
The Panties of Ultimate Feminine Knowledge lay limply on the bathroom floor, half damp due to being dropped in the puddle created when Bob showered earlier. Bob gazed down at them with awed reverence and uttered words of manly wisdom.
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