“Wichy! Morning chilly! Put us!” screamed the apple green pantyhose from deep in Ritchie’s sock drawer. Ritchie never threw anyone out. And pantyhose never lost hope despite thirty months in the dark. But when you’re apple green pantyhose, your fate is sealed from the start, and you know it. As Floralegs herself put it: “Pappuhgwee plantinose not too popularf spacially wiff guys.”
It was past time for Richie to rise. He knew it, and so did his wardrobe.
“OK. OK.” answered Richie.
“Quatter pash sex o’crotch!”
“Fix o’clock, Richie!”
“OK, everymuddy. One…Doo………”
“Fie.”
“Norty-tree.”
“A hunnertt!”
“Time to met guest!”
“Yeah.”
“Me fust!”
“Noo me!”
“ Socks!”
“ Yea!”
“No fair! How tome dhey always vet to jo fusst?!”
“I’m going to wear the same undies as yesterday.”
“Eeooo!”
“Haven’t got any clean ones.
“I bon’t shtink!”.
“You tell ‘em, undies.” said Richie.
“If I shtinkt, I’d pe in the hall hampa shtink pile.”
“Hoy! Fack you! We’ll scree aboot dat!”
“When were goinna be wooshed?”
“I carn parely breathe!”
“Loindry! Loindry! Loindry!”
“Quiet down! Wash on Saturday!”
“You pell ‘em, Richie! Grive me two!
“When’s Sapurday?”
“Afta March, I dink.”
“Ponight.”
“In abou a cubble monffs.”
”Hey, “! When’s Saturday?”
“Two thousand fifty.”
“Ooooh!
“Shounds schoon!”
“We better gut weady!”
“OK, evwybody shdart hyperfenncilating!”
“Socks!”
Realizing he’s serious now, eight socks popped crisply to attention. Richie could see them through the rectangular hole in his footboard.
“Yesh, Shir!”
“Clean socks only!”
All disappeared with the sole exception of Silky a fresh young brown thing.
“Silky!”
“Oh yeah, Baby!”
“Cut it out!” said Richie to his current underwear.
“Sowwy…“
“Silky, where’s your mate?”
“I dnno! I fink he miduh foun someone thinnah!”
“I’m available!” It was Fritzy climbing arthritically into view.
“Don makme pair wiff Fritzy! He ol n grey n he got a Valentine patten!”
“Wear boots!” said Fritzy in his gravelly squeek.
“Y crazy? ts summah!”
“Go barefoot!” squeeked Fritzy.
“Let me see the two of you two together. Fritzy, what happened to your mate?
“Remember? We b'long t Suzanne. She lef me here thnight the two o you…”
Richie could hear snickers originating in every corner of the house.
“Pants!” shouted Richie.
“Yo?” replied Levy, a hem visible.
“Does that include us?” came a British accent from the hall closet.
“Couse not. We’uh for special occasions.”
“This is a special occasion!”
“It is?”
“Yeah, the hundreth day n a row he’s worn those jeans!”
More snickering. Richie was becoming impatient.
“They’re jis jealous cause you and me are like this!” panted Levi.
“I’ve been in this dahk closet for six yeahs! I can’t feel my fly!”
“Hey, how about me? I’m three sizes too small! What hope do I have?!”
“I got it vorse than any o yous!”
“Hey! How’d she get in here?”
“Ginny?”
“Fanny?”
“Have you been heah this whole time?”
“Haven’t daed speak up! It’s such n ol boy’s club.”
“Tell me bout it!”
“That’s enough!” said Richie.
“You tell ‘em, Richie.” said his current underwear.
“I’m going back to sleep.” said Richie.
“Me too.”
“Fritzy?!” shreiked Silky.
“Yeah?”
“Keep your toes to yourself.”
No comments:
Post a Comment