and…Fluffy Pink Panties

June 17^th, 2009

New York City

Emily had initially thought that there would at least be some precedent, any sort of build up.

She would first take a few seconds outside, looking inconspicuous, glancing around at her phone as if waiting for someone to arrive and meet her. Then she would follow the first person who doesn’t look like a textbook pervert in, her head down, avoiding any and all possible eye contact with both customers and staff inside. There would probably be a few minutes of wandering around looking for it. Most likely she would at some point have to swallow what’s left of her dignity and just ask a member of staff if they have it.

But there she found herself, barely at the first stage of the mental plan, standing outside the shop called “Naughty Pussycat” staring at the fluffy pink panties.

“But why?” she had asked her boyfriend Mark the night before.

Mark shoveled yoghurt into his mouth as his eyes remained fixed on the TV show, which featured minorities beating each other in front of a live studio audience.

“I dunno…I just like it” he casually explained.

“And it has to be pink?”

“Absolutely. Pink and fluffy.”

“Well what’s wrong with the ones I wear to bed?”

He shoveled a few spoons into his mouth and remained focused on the tv, ignoring her completely.

Finally he replied, “They’re not pink and fluffy.”

You really can’t argue with that sort of logic, so she didn’t.

“Well why do I have to go buy them myself?! This is for your pleasure so YOU get it!”

He turned to her and exclaimed, “Hell no! I’m not about to walk into a sex shop where they know me and buy fluffy pink panties…”

“And why not?”

“They’ll think I’m some sort of fag…they’ll think I’m getting it for myself!”

“Why do you care what people in a sex shop will think?!”

Mark turned back to the TV and didn’t answer.

“Well at least let’s go together then!”

Marks face scrunched up with an expression of boredom and annoyance as it had done many times before.

Emily immediately shrank.

Not physically. She didn’t magically get smaller. This isn’t science fiction.

Her ego is what shrank once again from the technique Mark had pulled many times to get his way. She was afraid of him, for he held her time hostage. They had been dating for years. She was climbing her thirties and she was never pretty. She was desperate. And sometimes when you’re desperate you have to swallow your pride and put on fluffy pink panties for a man who eats yoghurt like a pig.

“Ok…okay baby” she whispered as she stroked his arm, “I’ll get them tomorrow.”

“Cool.”

The manipulative prick had triumphed once again. She placed her head on his shoulder and immediately began the self brainwashing most desperate women become experts at:

It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with this. Actually, it’s healthy. He’s being honest about what he likes, honesty is a good thing. I am glad I’m with such an open man, our sex life will always be exciting, even after we’re married. And of course we will get married. Maybe by the end of this year! Maybe this is a final test before he pops the question!

And so it continued in her mind until the following afternoon she stood outside the shop.

Well…it doesn’t look so bad. Actually it’s sexy…well maybe not, but he will find it sexy which will in turn make me feel sexy. Maybe this is a new, open chapter in our relationship. Maybe I can start telling him what I like and don’t like! Well…not right away of course but someday perhaps…

There was a brief moment of silence in the street, as is common before something horrible is about to happen in fiction.

The typewriter picked up speed as it left the sixth floor window and by the time it plummeted into her head it had been almost shot out of a cannon.

Emily died instantly.

The typewriter met a similar fate.

Keys Q, A, D, F & G went tumbling down the drainpipe, never to be seen again. Most of the other keys scattered all over the street.

Near the body, the letters S,I & X had fallen together and spelled out the word SIX…

But this was quite random and has no significance whatsoever. 

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