The man guarding the panties…

This is not what I had planned after graduating
from college with a 2.01 in criminal justice. I had
dreams! I was going to be a the best patrol officer,
then detective, work my way right up the ladder and
be…Chief of Police in Los Angeles! The Director
of the FBI or CIA! Head of Security for a pop star,
star athlete or rich dude in the fabulous Hamptons!

But now…I am the man…guarding the panties!
I am the man…guarding the panties!

Excuse me ma’am, please stop fingering the thongs
and don’t even think about putting one of them into
your purse without paying for them. I have my sensible
shoes on. I could chase you down from thirty miles away
and pepper spray you. I take petty thievery very seriously.

This is not what my mother had in mind! This
is not what my father had in mind! This is not what my
Uncle Jim or Aunt Sally had in mind! They never call
or write or send me an e-mail. I think they are disappointed in me.

I think they are disappointed that…I am the man…guarding the panties!
I am the man…guarding the panties!

And sir…what are you doing in my store? You don’t
have a wife with you. What are you doing here? Ohhhhh…
I know. You’re one of THOSE men. The men that WEAR the
panties. Please leave my store sir. You are a sick man.
A sick…sick man.

This is not what my wife had in mind, when
we were newlywed with starry dreams in our eyes!
So she decided one day, that she was actually a…well…
a man trapped in a woman’s body. She left me, changed
her name to Herbert and went off to Sweden to fulfill
her dream…of having a penis.

I think she left me because…I am the man…guarding the panties!
I am the man…guarding the panties!

If you did not know it, there is an immense black market
in women’s undergarments. The Mafia runs it. They run
everything! I’m here in my sensible shoes to foil the Mafia.

I have a dog named J. Edgar Hoover. He loves me. I love him.
Please don’t tell him that I am the man…guarding the panties.
I am afraid he’ll leave me too.

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