I finally remembered why I associate the word �panties� with perversion. My first job was at an ice cream shop, I won�t mention the name but they had many flavors. I was a splitter of bananas (a splitter, a scooper, a maker of malts and floats). Our boss was of the paranoid sort, quite certain that all the staff members were stealing from him (which we were, but anyway) and used to hide in the parking lot across the street to spy on us. He would occasionally call to ask what we were doing, as he watched us doing something entirely different.
One afternoon, as I was working alone, the phone rang. I answered it and heard the question �what color panties are you wearing�. It wasn�t my boss, but I always viewed the phone as the enemy due to his constant surveillance. In my shocked state, I believe I asked who it was before hanging up. Minutes later, the phone rang again. The same question. This time I did not hesitate before hanging up. The phone did not ring again that shift but I could not shake the feeling that I was being watched. I believe this is when I mentally linked the word �panties� with �perversion.�
In another mental regurgitation, I was contemplating my hands, specifically my need to cover them. I don�t know what Shakespearean origin this has, some kind of �out damn spot out� sense perhaps. Call it guilt. I am not sure, but I have this need to keep my hands covered. I do it subconsciously, tucking my hands into the waistband of my pants or my thighs, wrapping them with the tail of my shirt. I catch myself doing this, even waking up in the middle of the night, my hand tucked in the waistband of my pajamas. Maybe it�s just because my hands are always cold.
As an exercise during my current evening of insomnia, I tried this � I worked my way through the alphabet letter by letter trying to name as many 3 or more syllabled words as I could. The easiest letters seemed to be Q and X. The hardest letter was K. It�s an interesting exercise and showed me how much vocabulary is neatly tucked away in our brain, just waiting for a chance to be utilized. Such treasures as miscreant, periscope subterranean, just waiting for a chance to be uttered. And on that note, I shall leave you with this (and hopefully go to sleep):
Percival was pointlessly pondering the perverted perpetration of penetration in a perpendicular persuasion from a peripheral perspective.
This entry brought to you by the letter P � for PLEASE let me go to sleep.
Oh, and I also wrote some 2 AM erotica. If you want to see that, you'll have to email me privately, but I'll share.
