A/N: Honest to God, I do not know what this mess of a story is about. But, one day at work after me and my mates came back from lunch, we were walking past this old decrepit house. That house is vile, you know? We’ve seen actual feces, human feces not animal feces, left on the side of the house. We even saw an actual live human being taking a shit next to the house on broad breaking daylight like it’s nobody’s business. I kid you not. Anyway, on that day we were all joking about what possible disgusting thing we would find next to the house, lo and behold, an actual black lace bra! Yep, someone thought that maybe their bra is not good enough that they’re just going to throw it out on the street? So, that is the inspiration behind the story and I wished I had written it better but I’m a firm believer that whatever I wrote, and however shitty that was, I’ll stick by it. Here goes. That being said, I am sorry for this mess of a story.
How people can just toss their trash on the street is beyond me? What is so difficult in holding on to your empty water bottle or your candy wrapper until you’ve found a trash can to throw it? Better yet, just bring your own drinking bottle and don’t snack whilst your walking. I can’t, for the life of me, understood how people can be so heartless and just littered around like they own the street. You won’t littered in your house, so why are you littering in public. Wait, maybe they do litter in their own house. Oh, those filthy bastards.
I mean, look at this! Candy wrappers, sandwich boxes, plastic water bottles, cigarette buds, and oh my dear ever-loving God! Is that an honest to God bra? What in fresh hell is this? Who in their right mind would throw out a bra? What is this? I’m not touching that. Oh, but that’s trash, isn’t it? I should be picking up trash, so in all technicality I should be picking up the bra? Oh, what is this?
“Yo, Ralph! Get a move, man! We need to get the cheese stick before it runs out. Stop dilly dallying, will ya?”
“Yeah, you’re going to want to see this first, though,” I shout back to June, my colleague, who was already taking the left turn to this incredibly delicious bakery near our office.
“What could possibly be more interesting than stuffing my face with cheese stick?” June asked, but she did walk towards where I was dumbfounded by the appearance of the black bra.
“I found a bra, mate.”
“Well, congratulations, do you know how to take it off of a woman, though?”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“Oh shit, someone throw a bra on the street? What the hell, man?”
“Exactly what I thought.”
“Oh no, this is not good. I know whose bra this is.”
“Should I be alarmed about that information, June?”
“It’s Miranda’s. She was wearing this bra yesterday. I remember, because she was like showing it to me and whatnot.”
“Should I be concerned that Miranda is flashing her bra to you at work?”
“Ugh, she got it during black Friday, and she was like telling me about it, stop getting your knickers in a twist just because we girls are open about everything.”
“Okay, why are you mad at me about? Should we pick up this bra or something? Or text Miranda about it? I mean, she would surely be looking about it, right? Or not? I don’t know. Tell me what to do, June!”
“Calm down, will you? The question is, what the hell is her bra doing here? Was she not wearing a bra yesterday when she got off from work? From exactly what time did she take off her bra? Did she take it off herself? Or was someone else doing it to her?”
“And, pray tell, how do you think would I, or you for that matter, will know the answers to that? This is getting ridiculous, soon more people are going to walk this street and if we’re going to pick the damn bra then, we’re going to look like two perverts! Do we pick this bra or not?”
“Oh God, no! What if it’s not even Miranda’s in the first place?”
“But you’re the one who said it was Miranda’s! Oh, for God’s sake, June, get a grip!”
True to what I am most worried about, I heard the sound of someone’s running from behind me. Oh, dear God, please let the stranger is actually a jogger who clearly is too preoccupied by whatever they are listening as the just jog along and leave both me and June in peace. Let not the jogger notice the black bra.
“Oh, bloody hell, mate. Pick my bra up, will you? Don’t just freaking stare at it!”
I turned around and I have never been gladder to see it was Miranda.
“It’s your bra? This is your honest to God bra? Are you kidding me, Miranda?” June was practically screaming at this point. “How do one just throw their freaking bra on the street? Were you braless when you left for work?”
“I am torn between wanting to know the answers to that and I’m scared I will be scarred for life,” I whispered to myself hoping Miranda didn’t hear that.
“What the hell, June? You dared me to throw the bra from the taxi last night! Remember? We were walking back from the pub, you left your damn apartment key at the office. So, we hauled our drunken self, back to the office. We called a cab from the office and you dared me to throw it. Obviously, and clearly, my drunken self, thought it was a good idea. Hence why my bra is here!”
“Yep, I officially am regretting my decision to hear that story. I’m just going to go and get myself two cheese sticks so I can plug my ears anytime I am near the both of you. I’ll see you later at work, June, Miranda. Ciao!”