Blast From the Past

     Since I'm preparing the 2026 A-Z Challenge, I don't have a lot of extra time to write anything new for Penwasser Place.  So, I figured you wouldn't mind an oldie but a moldie goodie.  Therefore, may I present my 'U' entry from the 2011 A-Z Challenge? 

NOTE:  If inclined to go back and search for the original post (although I can't imagine why anyone would), you won't find it.  In a fit of pique and mental illness, I deleted my entire blog in 2018, a very bad year for me (yes, it involved a woman).  Luckily (or not), I kept a copy of the original writing.

The Underwear Wars

   Come, listen, my children, from everywhere

to the epic battles of underwear.

  Began first with briefs, tighty-whiteys,

that were worn by men both weak and mighty. 

Frankly, I'm disturbed that I kept this photo all these years. 
 I've always thought the dude in the front looked like Christian Bale. 
But it was good to see that Gary Coleman was able to find work before he died.

  But, soon, a young woman began to fret

and wonder why she wasn’t pregnant yet.

  For, you see, the problem lay in the fit

of briefs which pulled the sack near where he’d sit. 

  Thus cooked, the sperm had no place to hide.

Victims of body temperature, boiled and died.

  No happy eggs, no mother-to-be

Just a man and his wife and their color TV

(NOTE: Hey, it rhymed.  Sue me.)

   A doctor’s care being her last resort,

she bought him some boxers, just like gym shorts.

  She told him their loose, casual fit

will keep his “boys” far from where he sits.

  With them cooled, his swimmers will be able

to find a place at the “Mommy Table.”

  But, he moaned and whined, “I hate the big hole.

The struggle is real. 
Especially for the gifted.

Meaning, I'm good.

It’s a big inconvenient ‘Whack-A-Mole’.”

  So, to shut up her husband and give her relief

She then thought to buy him some boxer briefs.

  Not quite as snug as the white linen sacks

they gave him the comfort that boxers lacked.

Actually, my preference, if you're curious. 
Why would you be curious?  What's wrong with you? 
Incidentally, not me.

  Excited over this underwear kind

the wife hustled home, only to find.

  Her man, at the doorway, happily bare

No shirt, no pants, no underwear.

  “Honey,” he said, “I’ve got a great plan

That I’m hoping, I pray that you’ll understand.

  “For, just like Kramer or Marlon Brando*,

No undies for me.  I’m going commando.”

 Epilogue:  In a coma, the wife is not expected to live.  Her living will stipulates that her eggs be harvested for the local in-vitro fertilization clinic.

 *Okay, so I’m no Shakespeare.  But, I couldn’t think of anything else that rhymed with ‘commando.’

One more post before the challenge!