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Vice Blog

NEW YORK - PANTIES FORTUNE

If you say "panties" and you're not a grandma, a pink terry cloth swaddled methy slut, or an awkward moment for dad or brother, you are intently talking about a tiny slice of fabric gracing the dewy hole. I will say "panties" now because panties hold the fortune-telling power that "underpants" does not.

BEHOLD! Pull away special panties and stare into the glisten-crust as done in the manner of tea leaves, coffee grinds, and goat innards…

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BEHOLD! Panties fortunes.

Tonight, after a day not beholding, I beheld and read a full day's thoughtfully eked and trickly pussy extra-gel. The formations are thin and nebulous, the peripheral details extensively mysterious. Pussy juice is trying to speak. Let's listen and decipher her designs:

1. A goth dude with a super long goatee. He is a cyclops too. No wait, he is a camel. Shit, wait…a camel-like goth dude with a mad long goatee and a bleeding eye.

2. Ziggy with a lip piercing. No, a well dressed Frenchman, running and whistling through a heavy coiled mustache. No, a hamster, in pounce position biting on a sparkler.

3. The Scream by Edvard Munch.

4. Baby from the movie Baby, about the last remaining infant brontosaurus. No! An angler fish, no, a fist with slashily drawn carbuncles. No, a cartoon dog looking up at heaven with thought-dots shooting out of his eye.

5. King Diamond.

What is pussy trying to say?

ADRIANE SCHRAMM