Caught With My Hand Up the Petticoat!
by Michael Lawrence
It was a frightfully odd day for me on that evening of the 16th of October in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and sixty-six. I was strolling down the streets of the city as I do everyday. I tipped my top hat at all the kind ladies and gentlemen who pleasantly returned the gesture by either tipping their own top hats or gently curtsying, depending on their sex. However, it was at a most random moment when something had struck me rather odd. It was while I was in a sparsely-populated area -- the very same area I pass everyday -- when I prepared to tip my top hat for a kind young lady. However, she did something completely off-color: she batted her eyes. I thought this was a simply a slight offense but rude nonetheless -- it is certainly not the sort of behavior I would expect from the refined lady she had appeared to be. Then I looked into her eyes again and she did something scandalous -- what she was doing was -- oh how should I put this -- dreadfully obscene! She had batted her eyes not once, not thrice, but incessantly! I gasped, of course, as a gentleman should, though such a gasp clearly was insufficient for she wiggled those eyelids and smiled at me as if it had been the first time the good Lord had allowed her to do so. So I gasped again -- louder this time. Apparently, such a strong exasperation was not enough to get this batty-eyed woman to cease such immoral behavior. So I gasped once more. This particular gasp was so powerful that, had I gasped any louder, I fancy my nose would have detached itself and fallen hither into the cesspool. Despite my most commanding nonverbal protests, she was still persistent with this most indecent action. So, I decided then was the time to speak forth.
"What in good gracious are you doing, good woman?" I asked her in a most reprimanding tone.
She responded to me rather frank "I want you," she said to me.
It struck me quite bluntly. Could it be? Could she be an associate of the most infernal band of feminine predators on this globe? -- The kind that contemplates in dark rooms of doing the most evil and unthinkable acts of lechery known to mankind? The more I thought, the more it had sounded true: fate had led me to one of the most foul maiden heathens on that most ill-fated day.
"Very well," I said with a most understandable tremble of nervousness in my voice. "You may have my billfold, good woman, but please understand that I have six children and a devoted wife." I threw my billfold to the ground and put forth my palms outwardly as a good gentlemanly victim should. I had fancied this treacherous woman to have taken my billfold and scuttled like such thieves typically do. Instead, she contradicted my expectations and did not remove my billfold from the road. She stood there and continued to bat her eyes in that most appalling fashion. "What, good woman, what else could I give you?" I asked in fright. I thought perhaps she fancied my top hat and walking stick, so I tossed them both to the ground. I even threw in my overcoat for good measure. However, she did not move a lone step; she continued to bat her eyes. "What else do you want? You must leave me with some clothes to wear, good woman, for I certainly cannot scurry about the streets merely in my undergarments!"
She then simply repeated herself. "I want you," she said to me.
"Good god! When is enough enough?" I said huffily as I removed my vest and pocket watch and tossed them to the street. "I'm barely clothed at the present. You have more than enough! Leave me be!"
Then she said something that struck me to be quite odd. "Oh baby, you're hot," she said to me while sliding her tongue against her upper lip. I had contemplated quite dearly why this woman had said 'hot' for I had not the faintest idea what my temperature had to do with our situation. I was 98.6 Fahrenheit as I had been everyday as far as I'm aware. I would have never thought to comment on ones temperature. It is most ridiculous! Moreover, her notion of calling me an infant child was something even more peculiar, for I had not been called such names since I was -- well, when I was an infant child myself, presumably. Then she began to breathe severely. I thought she had suddenly taken ill.
"My word, do you grow faint?" I asked her in a truly concerned tone of voice. However, moments after my inquiry, she had apparently recuperated.
Then she told me something much more peculiar than what she had already before.
She told me "Oh honey, I want your sex."
To that most interesting statement, I realized this woman was likely insane. I talked to her in a slow voice so this woman's slowed intellect could properly decipher my message. I said "My dear good woman, you cannot have my sex because the good Lord has not blessed you with it." And then I said, "The good Lord hath made me man and you woman; it was His decision and there is nothing you nor I can do to alter that fact." Past this point in our conversation, I had come to realize that there was nothing this woman could do to that would shock me further. However that was proven completely false within a few moments. It was scandalous what she told me next. Terrifyingly scandalous! Well, because I had gotten this far in our little tale, I had best not stop here. Though if you are weak at heart, then I insist you incinerate this letter at once!
She told me, "Would you please place your hand inside my petticoat?" Oh what horror of horrors I had felt! What the unthinkable, unimaginable request! I could have perished at that very moment! I could feel blood rushing too my head -- which is the most embarrassing, unnatural thing in the world for blood does not normally rush to one's head unless they are standing on their head, and standing on my head, I was certainly not!
"Good woman, how dare you suggest such a thing!" I yelled at her in disgust as I began to flee. And I fled. I fled so far away.