By Dingleberry Small
Photo courtesy of Dave Gates
A scraggly, old man walked to the center of town and asked, “Does anyone have a pair of underpants I can borrow?”
The peasants looked at each other. Never had they heard a request so strange; even the town elder thought it odd.
“What happened to the ones you had?” said a peasant from a window.
“It was made from the fur of wolves and came alive and bit me.” The old man tightened the robe around his waist.
The peasant cracked open his door and handed him a bag. “Take this. It's made of sheep skin.”
The old man thanked him and went on his way.
The next day the old man came back and asked, “Is there anyone who has pair of underpants I can borrow, preferably not of sheep skin?”
“What's wrong with sheep skin?” said the peasant from the day before.
“As soon as I put them on, the undergarments made of wolf fur returned to the castle and chased the sheep skin off my hind end.”
“Here,” a woman held out a bag from her window. “While it may look brash, I threaded it from the feathers of an owl.”
He thanked her and hurried along.
The townspeople placed bets on whether or not the old man would return a third time, and when he did, they were hardly surprised.
“What's wrong now?” The woman shouted from her window.
“As soon as I put them on it flapped its wings and flew after the wolf and sheep. Is there not anyone who can help me?” he cried.
Finally the town elder recognized him. “Here Jack, take mine. They're made out of piranha skin. That way if you start eating those magic beans again, your undergarments will come alive and bite off your rear end.”
Jack put them on and was instantly cured and never bothered that poor town again.
Note: This piece of flash fiction is an added bonus to Dingleberry Small's masterpiece, Max Underpants.