The Mystery of the Red Underwear...

Mrs and Mrs Willis-Sinclair, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense. Which leads me to our next transgression, Reverend Mother… we were singing up on that mountain. If you don’t get those references you don’t deserve to be alive. Ok, we’ll stop with our incoherent nonsense, and move gaily forward to the matter at hand.

For some time, there has been a pair of men’s red underwear in the corner space of our bathroom. Where once slept our house elf, Dobby, now rests this pair of mysterious underwear. At this stage we are unaware if it is the final horcrux, but we have a few more tests to run. That is neither here nor there, the main question is: where did they come from in the first place? 

The underwear has been there for quite some time. At least, we think it has. Going off our bathroom cleaning schedule… they may have been there anywhere from 2 weeks to 2 months. Dobby is soooo getting socks for Easter. We’ve both been ignoring them for a while, believing them to belong to the other. PJ, being of the male variety (usually) could quite easily own a pair of men’s red underwear. Kathryn, being of the male variety (usually) could also quite easily own a pair of men’s red underwear. Seriously. Kathryn does actually own men’s underwear… which is why PJ, knowing that he does not own cheap polyester blend underwear, presumed that they belonged to her. 

Tonight the tension was unbearable. And Kathryn decided to broach the subject of the mysterious red underwear. Which is how we discovered that neither of us actually owns the underwear. Nor do we know where they came from, or how they came to be in our Upper East Side Pied-á-Terre. We decided to sit down, and logically work through all the possibilities:

1) 

The underwear in question belongs to Gemma Brownlow. Gemma has not visited our humble abode in quite some time (bitch), but it seems the kind of immature prank she would play. Then we came to our senses and realized that Gemma does not wear underwear of this variety. She wears Calvin Klein cotton briefs (don’t ask how we know, but lets just say she’s pretty well endowed – if ya know what we’re saying? Wait, what are we saying?                                    

2) One of us has had an illicit affair with a married businessman who wears red underwear. His name is Gary Dixinormous, and he’s a junior marketing  associate who enjoys Macramé conventions and leaving red underwear in people’s bathrooms. Upon further discussion, we realized Gary does not actually exist, but rather, was wishful thinking on our part. Well, not exactly both of us. Shalom, Gary… we’ll always have that fateful night in St. Louis. I’ll never forget your eyes… or your flexibility.

3)  The demon lady strikes again. Yes. Our neighbour of the feminine persuasion who may or may not be possessed by a demon, the devil, or Miley Cyrus. She selfishly continues to plague our existence through her continual living. This seems like the sort of thing she would do. Just for shits and giggles. Out of all  the possibilities… this one seems the most likely. Therefore, we have found our culprit.

Why would she put red underwear in our bathroom? We know not, but in a time of ancient Gods, Warlords, and Kings, a land in turmoil cried out for a hero.

She was Xena, a mighty princess forged in the heat of battle.

The power

The passion

The danger

Her courage will change the world. And kick our demon neighbours ass. Or, maybe just do her. Allegedly. We don’t want to put Xena in a box. Unless it’s Gabrielle’s.

Peace out mo fo’s

PS – Brodey, did you happen to leave red underwear at our house?