Conunderweardrum
A belated tale from the Holiday Season

Our lil' squad of pals had gathered at a local tavern/restaurant to celebrate X-mas a wee bit early, swap gifts, spit, dirty looks, salacious leers (to the other patron-y wildlife), and insults all in the name of Good Cheer (or some such nonsense) and that oh-so-elusive Holiday Spirit (Let's go see the TREE!!!). As most of the assemblage found said Cheer in the form of alcoholic imbibements we got around to the actual gift exchange. One particular present to your's truly was a pair of Christmas-Themed Peanuts underwear (with Charlie Brown and Snoopy featured prominently on a field of red cotton) from one of my lady friends. Group Think (encouraged by the aforementioned drinkies) took over and it was determined by a Jury of my Peers that it was absolutely necessary for me to don the drawers and 'show them off.' Never one to pass up an opportunity to model nether region wares (easily swayed due to my freshly fermented brain into believing that, YES, I had some sort of innate leanings towards boxer flaunting) I was quickly off to the establishment's Men's Room to swap skivvies. Fortunately there was an available stall to change in and I was sans pants and old undies in a flash. Wrapped those Peanuts shorts on and stood for a moment clutching my old pair.

What the hell am I going to do with these?
Fold 'em up and put them in my pocket?

EWW.

Nope.

My sotted mind instructed me to Ditch the used pair...but I needed to find a suitable location.

Now, sober it would have been obvious that I should just toss the bad boys in the trash and be done with them. Heck, considering the flushing power of the toilets there I might have even been able to send them to a watery grave (maybe they would have been reclaimed by an employee at the Water Works? A kind of re-gifting, eh?).

However, as noted, I was Not sober.

Scanning about the stall I took notice of the Koala Kare Changing Station (for proud papa's to utilize in getting a fresh nappy on their befouled bundles of joy). Perfect.

I opened it up a crack and slipped my now-passe drawers inside and took my leave to hit the 'runway' and the adulation of my gathered posse.

So, if you were the fortunate fellow that discovered a worn-out pair of men's boxers stowed away in a Diaper Doo-Hickey...they were mine.

Maybe you even used them as impromptu swaddling or an ass rag?

Another form of regifting.

Now that's the Holiday Spirit.

T
(feels better after confessing)