I’ve got so many athletic commitments—such as clubbing
and jumbo slice—that I’ve accumulated numerous pieces of athletic underwear to the tune
of closet-busting. You might imagine boxer-jocks dangling importantly from
marquee hangers amid my notable suite of salmon-tint Casual Day home kits. So I
upped the antechamber. For all my Under Armour, I bought an Under Armoire. Do
you know about this? It has room for sporty sock, sporty pant, sporty tote,
sporty sideways cap. (I store my sporty cap sideways, in any event, to get it
broken in-for athletic commitments such as clubbing and jumbo slice.) I thought
it would end there, and by “it” I mean the accumulation of athletic underwear,
and by “there”, I mean my Under Armoire, but Nö, I begin to desire greater
domination, the way Under Armour conquered the body, one garment at a time. I would
like to own an Under Armoured Car and travel the Land Down Under Armour, not to
mention purchase shares in the corporate merger that will certainly produce
Under Armour & Hammer. I could see this getting way outta hand. If I max my
credit cards, what then? Must I appear in Debtors Court? Will my wages get
garnished? Will they hand me my money with a sprig of parsley? All because of
my insatiable requirement to fill my drawers—with drawers!
