fracas

Some time ago, a post appeared at the old git’s home. DaddyPapersurfer had claimed a bra had appeared with a note attached, indentifying this poor bra as (if you can believe it) Petrov Wellpaddedton, a male orphan bra who doesn’t speak English.

Olga the Traveling Bra was consulted, opinions were posted, the Mounties were called in and it soon came out that despite the claims of the papersurfing grandpa, that bra most certainly had to be female. He… in all his 34C glory… was a she.

Petra to be correct.   

Not long after (and for reasons I simply cannot understand) it became public knowledge that dear daddypapersurfer was using poor Petra as a (gasp) jockstrap.

The horrors she must’ve endured.

We warned daddypapersurfer that the BOBHS (Bras of Britain Humane Society) had vowed to make an example of the next person caught abusing a bra, but well, he doesn’t listen all that well. It must have something to do with age. (Or perhaps those inflamed kiwis?) You’d think he’d have been grateful for the ummm… heads up, but no. This was his reply.

“I shall now cast Petrov out into the streets and let him fend for himself. If I can’t use him as I wish, and he’s costing me a small fortune I can tell you, he will have to fend for himself.”

Unbelievable, isn’t it? Please, don’t just take my word. Read it for yourself. It’s how we got to the next part.

I was lying down yesterday, feeling quite ill myself, when the telephone rang. It was a friend who’d been down to the bus station to pick up a relative. Knowing about my blog, she couldn’t believe it when she, upon leaving, happened upon none other than Petra, frozen stiff next to the brick wall behind the gates. Her little tin cup held but $1.73 and were it not for the tears, I’m sure she’d not have been frozen. My friend, recognizing her plea, brought her to my home where I and Mr. Fracas wrapped her in a blanket, set her up with a hot toddy and some television, making her comfortable and warm.

It wasn’t much of a night for television, nothing but repeats you know… but Petra seemed quite happy to stumble across one of her favorites, Bridget Jones’ Diary. In fact, the show so inspired her that she made me promise to run out and purchase a similar diary for her to record the ordeal she endured at the hands kiwis of the daddypapersurfer.  Understandably, she’s still a tad angry so I’m not sure what she’ll write will be fit to print here. She’d like to start it off with the photo I took of her with the sad little sign that had helped my dear friend recognize her at the bus station. That much, I shall do for her.

I imagine the BOBHS will be contacting us soon. Anyone who would like to donate to the fund to help Petra get some counselling, should click the “donation” link in the top right hand sidebar of the fracas blog. If there is an abundance of funds once she’s well again, we’ll let her and Olga decide what to do with it when Olga arrives for her visit this spring.

{ADDENDUM: In the interest of being a good humanitarian, Petra has asked if we could donate a pittance from that afore-mentioned fund, to help poor daddypapersurfer get some medical attention for those inflamed kiwis of his. It would seem that being fed, toddied and warmed has tempered her anger a bit and the compassionate side of her is coming out.  At the least, we might send him a real jockstrap. But please, don’t tell him. Petra would like for it to be a surprise.}