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Distribution of soiled underwear in public restrooms is taking
place at unprecedented levels. The masses are experiencing O.P.P.
on an almost daily basis. But it is time that we started hitting
harder targets to raise the morale of the troops and hit those
people that are unlikley to be using public restrooms. We also
have to inspire the people in the street that secretly hope our
underground resistance group would continue the battle, and whom
we hoped would someday join the fight.
The war was about to be taken up a notch and the mall stood
out as a clean sterile atmosphere overrun with consumer zombies.
We hoped that by forcing them to experience our soiled underwear
we could open their minds, infect them with an experience outside
of what they were expecting. It was a long shot, we knew that
the odds were stacked against us from the beginning.
I was chosen for the infiltration when Ed's rock beat my scissors.
For this evenings mission I would be wearing a business suit
and tie, both by Brooks Brothers in a conservative dark blue,
the shirt was from DKNY with a button down collar and long sleeves.
Cuflinks were optional and I left them at home. The poopy pants
were classic Fruit of the Loom, well worn and now highlighted
by the thick dark brown streak running up its rear. I tucked them
up the sleeve of my jacket secretly hoping the chocolate wouldn't
melt and run down my arm giving away my identity. I placed an
extra bar of Symphony milk chocolate in my pocket and tried to
push thoughts of the dry cleaning bill out of my head.
The fake mustache itched and I wondered why the hell I was wearing
it. Security precautions, right. O.P.P. is no game. At every placing
of poopy pants there is the potential for mob justice, a broom
handles and torches kind of thing. People hate what they don't
understand and they are deathly afraid of the bodily fluids we
used to play in as kids.
Lord and Taylor is expensive for most people. I had my platinum
card ready in case they had started screening out the undesirables.
Someday, but not today. Every display case is polished and objects
that cost more than most peoples weekly paychecks are bought on
a whim by kids with cell phones who have never worked a day in
their life. I find the dressing rooms and grab a Claiborne sweater
from off the racks as a cover.
The poopy pants are a stark contrast to the light color scheme
of the dressing rooms. It needed something though. I took out
the now partially melted chocolate bar and bite off a piece. I
chewed and swished it around in my mouth and bent down to the
underwear. Opening my mouth the dark wet paste oozed and landed
on the underwear with a plop. Perfect, like diahrea dribbles.
A quick check of my teeth in the mirror for residual chocolate
and its out to the mall payphones. I had already circled Lord
and Taylor on the handy guide of mall store phone numbers. The
phone was ringing and I was trying to calm myself, I had expected
a live person to answer but it was an automated operator.
No, I don't know the extension that I want to reach. Finally,
a list for all departments. I press 4 for 'Men's' and I still
don't get connected, it's another damn menu. Finally I find the
right department and the phone starts ringing. And ringing and
ringing.
"Men's, this is Ryan how can I help you?"
"Hi, this is kind of embarrassing. I was in there earlier trying
on some slacks and... well I think I left something behind in
the dressing room."
"Hold on a second.... nothing was turned into us."
"Could you do me a favor and go check, it was the last stall
down."
"Hold on."
I waited, anxiously wondering what he would say, imagining his
reaction as he walked into that changing stall. Suddenly I was
off hold but it was another man's voice, "Who is this?"
He sounded angry. I tried to stick to the story, "I was in earlier
and I left something in the changing booth."
"Yeah we found it."
As he hung up I heard him mutter what sounded like "sicko" to
whomever was nearby.
O.P.P. had struck again.
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