The Parable Of The Beige Brassiere
Once there was a man who always spoke in parables. We nailed him to a tree and then spent the next two thousand years regretting our harsh actions, so I make it a point to only occasionally speak in parables. This is the parable of the beige brassiere, feel free to form a cult like following around it.
There was once a slightly overweight man who suffered from mild gynecomastia walking from Damascus to another part of the Middle East that is now a bullet riddled crater scented lightly with the unmistakable tang of white phosphorus. At the time however, it was a much more pleasant nigh desert wasteland. He wore about him robes of the purest white, which helped reflect the sun, but still he grew addled in the heat of the day, which was very hot indeed. His water skin had sprung a leak, and as he walked, the precious fluid seeped out of the bag and dripped onto the road, fertilizing a few seeds that had been accidentally been sown there by an incompetent farmer in another parable.
So the, this man, let's call him Saul. No, Paul. No, Raul. Raul was nearly out of water and beginning to feel quite faint as he went on his journey. It would have been better had he simply turned back from whence he had came, but Raul was a tax collector (as so many of the men in these parables often are) and he had been chased out of the last town by angry tea brewers chanting about taxation without representation.
Raul was on the verge of death from heat exhaustion and dehydration, when a bush burst into flames at the side of the road and began talking to him.
“Don the beige brassiere!” It said in commanding tones. “Oh, and take off your sandals, for you stand on hallowed ground.”
Raul took off his sandals and instantly burned the soles of his feet, because the sun had been beating down on the sandy road for many hours and the sand was roughly the temperature of molten glass. As Raul rolled about in agony, the bush spoke again. “Don the beige brassiere!”
And beside Raul there was suddenly a beige brassiere. Though he had not seen such a thing before, he hastened to don it, for the burning bush had spoken and he was afraid of it. Unfortunately, due to the lack of Victoria's Secret catalogs in that time, and never having seen a woman who wasn't covered from top to toe in heavy cloth, Raul donned the brassiere about his feet, where it tangled and tripped him.
Fortunately, a Samaritan was also on the road, and instead of pointing and laughing, or rather, after pointing and laughing, the Samaritan helped Raul don the brassiere about his chest. Immediately Raul felt lighter as the weight of his chest tissue was lifted forth.
“My burden hath been taken away!” cried Raul. He resolved immediately to quit his tax collector's job and dedicate the rest of his life to creating the Lord's Lingerie. He became immensely successful in this endeavor, married many wives and had many children.
Moral of the story: Always pay attention to hallucinations. It's just good business sense. Oh, and wear a bra. Definitely wear a bra.
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