Maximum protection

So, I was sitting on the toilet, pooping, and I ran out of reading material.

I usually keep a stack of books, magazines, and comic books on the counter and stack them until they reach ridiculous heights and my wife tells me I have to put them away. I know that eventually, they will fall over and kill someone in the resulting avalanche, but I'll cross that lawsuit hurdle when I come to it.

This time in the throne room, though, there was nothing new to read. I'd consumed it all!

There was, however, a small black bag, sitting next to the pile of read material. I didn't remember ever seeing it before. I assumed it belonged to one of my employees. So, of course, I opened it.

And found tampons!

Now, I don't get weirded out by tampons. The idea that someone invented a way to cleanly and quickly stick a cotton ball into a woman's vagina to stem the flow of blood is a little strange, of course, but they clearly have a use. And not just for Aunt Flo.

They pop out nicely into your nostril for a nosebleed when you learn the hard way that you cannot break a board with your face.

They're excellent for dipping in a cup of tea that has red food coloring in it when you're pretending to be a cultured vampire.

And they're awesome as a substitute "binky" when you find a package of them under the medicine cabinet at age three.

I know that there are men out in the world who are relatively simpleminded and get skeeved out at the thought of walking into a grocery store and buying tampons. I don't understand why this should be an issue at all. Is the clerk going to think that you're a hairy woman in drag? Or that you're packing a vajayjay to go with that Adam's apple? Or maybe that you have a tampon fetish? Nope. The clerk is going to think that you have a girlfriend or wife and that you are a doting partner. Buying tampons for your spouse has no negative implications, unlike when you make a quick stop at the grocery store to pick up a cucumber, condoms, vaseline, batteries, and a turkey baster. Try explaining that one.

So, me and Tampon? We're old friends. I know all of Tampon's secrets, we finish each other's sentences, and we can share a silence at dinner without it getting all uncomfortable. And yes, that one time in middle school when I saw the used applicator in the trash, I might have done some very creepy and disturbing things, but that was then and this is now. I'm a lot older and wiser now.

What I guess I'm saying here is that I'm sorry I opened all of the tampons, assembled them on the counter, and drew little smiley faces on them, with word balloons that said things like "Hell no I won't flow!", "Wait a cotton pickin' minute!", " I ain't got time to bleed!" and "Twat did you say? I cunt hear you."

I just couldn't help myself.

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