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Dr. Drib · 09-19-2009, 06:59 PM

The Lost Underwear

By

Daniela Green

The Secret is how to find clean underwear.

The seventy-three year old geezer gazed down at the sodden underwear cradled in the hollow of his wizened hands. The underwear was dirty, filled with strange black hieroglyphs and other shapes of Unknown Origin.

Wear it, he told himself. You have nothing to fear. It’s only wet, dirty underwear.

As was his tradition, he first began donning underwear when he was 3 years old. He learned quickly, from his Auntie, that he should wear only his underwear and not Uncle Ferdinand's underwear. Naturally, being so young, he often put his underwear on backwards, so that the little slit in the front was behind him, which caused the young boy much consternation and confusion. Now, aound his scrawny neck, he had another piece of underwear, one that his brethren called a T-Shirt. Currently, at the age of sixty-two, he was a Master at putting on underwear.

The assembly of brothers and sisters encircling him urged him now to try on the underwear, but the ninety-one year old Master ignored them, even though the brethren held responsible jobs, some cleaning toilets, while others worked as voluntary (but paid) lab experiments. But these disparate jobs meant nothing: Here, all men were equals, except for perhaps Bob (a Wal-Mart Greeter), and maybe Marge, a woman (but not really) who earned an exorbitant amount of money selling perfumed goods secretly hidden in the recesses of her various body cavities.

“Try it. Try on the underwear,” a voice close to him said, one that was perhaps fifteen feet away. The silhouette of that man’s voice carried with it a halo of red hair and flaring nostrils, the velvet spirals of the man’s nose hairs twinkling eerily in the moonlight, like a hidden Secret out of some Ancient Mystery.

I am just three doors away from the toilet.

[TO BE CONTINUED BY OTHER MEMBERS...or BRETHREN.]

_______________________________

Wow! What an incredible Voice this writer has. He's able to talk about Difficult Subjects with Authority. And the story-telling quality leaves me mesmerized. I was literally gasping for breath. (My Doctors tell me it was only a mild heart attack.)

Truthfully, I was hesitant to post the entire novel, lest some unknown someone use the Secrets here for evil purposes. Some Secrets are not meant to be shared with Unknown Individuals.

I hope you understand. If not, I can't help you.

Don

"A Dan Brown Parody" is a copyrighted and trademarked phrase and is not meant to imply any writer living or dead (well, maybe "dead," but only artistically speaking), and may be used only with the explicit permission of its owner, Dr. Drib.

09-19-2009, 06:59 PM	#1
Dr. Drib Grand Sorcerer Posts: 45,404 Karma: 59504381 Join Date: Jan 2007 Location: Peru Device: KINDLE: Oasis 3, Scribe (1st), Matcha; KOBO: Libra 2, Libra Colour	"The Lost Underwear," A Dan Brown Parody, by Daniela Green The Lost Underwear By Daniela Green The Secret is how to find clean underwear. The seventy-three year old geezer gazed down at the sodden underwear cradled in the hollow of his wizened hands. The underwear was dirty, filled with strange black hieroglyphs and other shapes of Unknown Origin. Wear it, he told himself. You have nothing to fear. It’s only wet, dirty underwear. As was his tradition, he first began donning underwear when he was 3 years old. He learned quickly, from his Auntie, that he should wear only his underwear and not Uncle Ferdinand's underwear. Naturally, being so young, he often put his underwear on backwards, so that the little slit in the front was behind him, which caused the young boy much consternation and confusion. Now, aound his scrawny neck, he had another piece of underwear, one that his brethren called a T-Shirt. Currently, at the age of sixty-two, he was a Master at putting on underwear. The assembly of brothers and sisters encircling him urged him now to try on the underwear, but the ninety-one year old Master ignored them, even though the brethren held responsible jobs, some cleaning toilets, while others worked as voluntary (but paid) lab experiments. But these disparate jobs meant nothing: Here, all men were equals, except for perhaps Bob (a Wal-Mart Greeter), and maybe Marge, a woman (but not really) who earned an exorbitant amount of money selling perfumed goods secretly hidden in the recesses of her various body cavities. “Try it. Try on the underwear,” a voice close to him said, one that was perhaps fifteen feet away. The silhouette of that man’s voice carried with it a halo of red hair and flaring nostrils, the velvet spirals of the man’s nose hairs twinkling eerily in the moonlight, like a hidden Secret out of some Ancient Mystery. I am just three doors away from the toilet. [TO BE CONTINUED BY OTHER MEMBERS...or BRETHREN.] _______________________________ Wow! What an incredible Voice this writer has. He's able to talk about Difficult Subjects with Authority. And the story-telling quality leaves me mesmerized. I was literally gasping for breath. (My Doctors tell me it was only a mild heart attack.) Truthfully, I was hesitant to post the entire novel, lest some unknown someone use the Secrets here for evil purposes. Some Secrets are not meant to be shared with Unknown Individuals. I hope you understand. If not, I can't help you. Don "A Dan Brown Parody" is a copyrighted and trademarked phrase and is not meant to imply any writer living or dead (well, maybe "dead," but only artistically speaking), and may be used only with the explicit permission of its owner, Dr. Drib. Last edited by Dr. Drib; 09-20-2009 at 06:57 AM.