Pamper Hamper

The pamper hamper

It took three big strong men to carry it into my house and what a glorious thing that was to behold.

I said “Put it right here in my lounge room,” as I wanted enough space to walk around it and just take it in from every angle. And so they did, and I stared at it, and I confess I drooled just a little before I waved them out with, “Watch out for Mr. Pringle the poodle on the driveway with your van. He is small and deaf.”

I was the winner of the ‘Queen-for-a-year-Pamper-Hamper’. It was all mine. Hubby was away at the dreary bauxite mine doing bauxitey stuff. He has his mine, he owns it, and I have my mine here…all mine. Oh relax, it’s a joke I tell with the “Me Squad,” and we always laugh at that one. We girls in the Me Squad, we do.

You see, Chloe has her thing with her man, and how he’s a monkey. Prunella makes hers run around for flowers, and goodness knows what else, and Arabella the cut-snake is just mean as mean there ever was. Secretly we are decent, but to show that to our men? Oh, I do not think so. We call ourselves the “Me Squad,” and that’s another story, so let me get back to me.

The Pamper Hamper seemed to nearly fill my entire lounge. It was sealed with shiny plastic that locked all those good things inside. I could see them in that huge basket just waiting for me to get to and in my thrill I tried to break into it first with my nails, and then my teeth, but I just couldn’t get to those things; those very good and civilized things. Knives and scissors are for other people and I never touch them, as is my code. I needed help and I was angry and I felt small and stupid in my rather big smart house. I called out to my neighbor from beyond the ivy and stone fence.

“Myron come here…now!”

God I hate him. He is so pathetic. He runs to me if I call out to him like a dog. I mean, that’s why I hate him. If he didn’t come to me when I called out to him I’d be fond of him. If he was smarter he’d play the game one plays. The game says he must come to me anyway, but slower.

Well sure enough he came over and he broke the plastic wrapping and I pushed him out the door and told him to take that Pamper Hamper plastic wrapping with him “good boy”. ‘Slam.’ I rushed back to the Pamper Hamper thinking of the envious eyes of the Me Squad. Oh how they would smile, but their teeth would clamp when I showed them the wonderful rare things that were inside that Pamper Hamper.

There were coils of satin and oils of green and gold. There was a mink pocket of lotions and creams and soaps and emollients, and, oh, there was so much more. There was an Organic forest and wheat fusion ‘mud-pak’, and a spray for parched elbow skin made from the stamen of a Papua New Guinean Orchid and the dried ovaries of the tiny Hawaiian Calypso Moth. There was a tincture for “Champagne Stem Rash” that soothed the thumb and pointer finger and can you believe it, a balm for eyelash follicles made from the crushed gametophore stemsa of a moss and the pulped optic nerve fibers of the Northern Bahian Blond Titi. They both live in The Atlantic Forest in Brazil and they are critically endangered, but not too critically.

I could go on and on about the other things in the Pamper Hamper, like the aloe finger washes for gourmet truffle and beluga pizza nights, and the lithium battery powered helium micro bubble-wrap ankle warmers that smelled so civilised you could eat them, but I won’t bore you. Something went wrong and the Pamper Hamper lost its glisten. It’s shazam and wow-factor flunked and the posh and woot were gone.

In the Pamper Hamper I found some bubble bath balls and I tried to open one up to check what was inside (I have heard stories from the Me Squad where the greedy soap companies try to cheat you) when something terrible happened. It burst open and my left eye took the brunt of the discharge. What happened next was so quick I almost cannot believe it, but here it is exactly.

I recoiled backwards and hit my head on my 1678 Tompion and Knibb long-case grandfather clock (£ 125, 000) making it fall and crash down on my 1760 Louis Quinze chair, (£ 34,000). The clock and the brace of the chair were destroyed along with it’s irreplaceable fabric and that’s bad enough, but it got worse.

I fell to the ground screaming in pain in my big smart house, and on my 1804 handwoven Shah Abbasi motif Persian rug (£ 76,000) I writhed around wildly and the heels of my Christian Louboutin Lady Daf Veau Velour shoes (£ 635) dug the glass shards from the case of the shattered clock deeply into it’s pile. A heel broke whilst I was in that writhing moment just described.

While I was writhing and crying in pain alone in my big smart house a thought came to me and by habit or talent, the numbers added up there and then – £ 325, 635. That stopped my tears and I thought, “I am not paying for this mess. I’m a trapped soul in a lonely big smart house and nobody really knows the real me. I am in eternal pain because of the burning fire inside me that is never expressed.”

The more I thought about how it would automatically be assumed that I was supposed to replace the expenses incurred by that bubble bath ball the more angry I got. I hatched a plan where that hamper would pamper until the dying of my light. I was going to bring back it’s pamper and it would be bigger and stronger than ever.

I grabbed my mobile phone and called the cops and sobbed. I told them how they “liked the knockers on the toff guv” and how there was pushing and the how the clock fell. He listened and called out to another in the station to get to my address quickly as there might have been a rape and, “What was the name of the delivery company mam?”

I lay back on my 1804 handwoven Shah Abbasi motif Persian rug and smiled up at the Georgian ceiling rose twenty two feet above me. They would be here in my lonely big smart house in a few minutes with their kits and their cameras and concern and god what a show they are going to see. Mr. Pringle, my six year old deaf poodle licked my hand and I stroked his head and waited for them to arrive.

“You’re a vuvly widdle thing aren’t you Mr. Pringle?”

I knew that the soap company and any delivery company can afford 325, 635 pounds in loose change, but what of the millions more owed to me due to my pain and trauma? I was wondering about how deep their pockets would be and oh, there would be the divorce of course.

“I am not sharing a penny with hubby, am I Mr. Pringle?”

And right then and there, in my lounge room in my lonely big smart house, I looked into that stupid dog’s eyes and I thought of the plan that would have the Pamper Hamper burst as a piñata that could never stop raining if it tried.

“The men were mean when they ran over you with their big van. Remember how I told them not to do that to you Mr Pringle?”

About Dr. F (Ian Williams)

Ian Williams artist and author from Australia is enjoying watching the ideology of feminism dying. He adores these times where he sees it beginning to lose traction, and for him, the atrophying of that muscle is proof positive that word is getting out and it's questioning its answers. The magician tricks of feminism are understood by him, and in the front row seat he delights in putting up his hand, "Hey. I can see the secret wire".Short stories from his forthcoming book Kidscapes are published on AVfM every week.

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  • Tawil

    Pamper, pamper, pamper… women’s oppression sure has a privileged and narcissistic face. There is no doubting we live in a ‘pamper-culture’ for women in which men are invited only to provide for or take out the remnant trash from the party.

    Men oppressing women?
    Come on guys, take yourselves off the shame hook.

    Thanks for reminding us of this Dr. F….

    • Steve_85

      Shaming tactics only work when you care. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when the wimminz start to realise that the opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference. Good thing they’re all doing SOOO well in school, they’re gonna need it.

      • Kimski

        “Good thing they’re all doing SOOO well in school, they’re gonna need it.”

        I can’t wait to see the day, when women have to pay triple the normal rate, for any repair work they need done.
        I mean, they’ll be the only ones who can afford it, when that day comes. The rest of us will just have to fix it, the way we’ve always done it.

        • Steve_85

          Most of them wont even realise they’re paying three times as much. I’ve only ever known 2 wimminz that were any good with numbers.

          Things I put on credit are free right?

          • Marcus

            Aye, stop with all the stereotypes and misgyony, you’re only making us look like the hate group we’re assumed to be.

  • Shrek6

    Oh Dr F, how can one ever go back into a relationship with a woman after reading that. Hehehehe!

    Man, you had me laughing through most of that, but bloody hell, it is so bloody true in so many cases today, that it is utterly frightening.

    And the poor Poodle had to get squashed to make it all work out. Being a male, it doesn’t matter.

  • Kimski

    Great story, bro’.
    Just wondering why it is labeled as fiction?

    Btw, want to join the andybob/kimski-team, where we spend our spare time impersonating eachother?
    We could call it the ‘Me Squad.’

  • Tawil

    Women’s Pampering Expo:

    • Shrek6

      can you just picture me bending over with two fingers down my throat?
      What a mob of useless human beings with nothing better to do with their lives.

      But Jok’s rendition of Mull of Kintyre, was worth listening to. I think!

      • Codebuster

        Don’t be silly Shrek. This is satire.

        … it is satire, isn’t it?

    • Dr. F

      Tawil mate,

      My chunder bag is filling but only halfway. This one from the year before will fill it up all the way.

  • Codebuster

    “They both live in The Atlantic Forest in Brazil and they are critically endangered, but not too critically”

    No need to feel guilty, you poor dear… you told us about your donations out of hubbie’s bank account to the “Save Endangered Species Wildlife Fund.” It is just so you to be so caring. Just relax, enjoy and indulge. You deserve it.

  • Roderick1268

    The year 2012, the highest achievements of the human race! A narcissistic masturbation fest for the useless and the spoiled. To be among most valued beings upon our world, – where’s my fucken ticket?

  • Darryl X

    Wow. Classic. Of course Dannyboy’s piece could just as easily been about as fictitious as this one by the Dr. (But neither are.) The short story is (IMHO) the best and most accurate way to portray feminism. Also the funniest and most ironic. And least likely to ever get published in a print journal – LOL. You will never read such a scathing indictment and well-written satire of feminist entitlement anywhere else but AVfM. Editors should take note and expand the reservoir from which they select short stories for inclusion in their anthologies. I’m thinking ones like The O Henry Awards and Americas Greatest Short Stories. “My big smart house”. Ha ha ha…

  • Bombay

    Wonderful literary work! I cannot wait to buy your book of short stories.

    It reminded me of my X. She hated this wrought iron candle holder I had….. until she discovered that it was “in style”, then she liked it. Apparently she had no taste of her own.

    • Darryl X

      It’s funny you mention that. Women ARE herd animals. They don’t like anything unless someone else does. Covetous. Including men. It doesn’t matter what a poor specimen a man is, if someone else (like a competing woman) convinces her he’s worth something, then she will want it. Despite any objective reality. Then the other woman can have her choice of the better specimens. Same way other women and men (like from the Divorce Industry) convinces a woman that her husband is an abuser and needs to be divorced. Despite all objective reality. Very opportunistic. Pretty screwed up that.

      • you know what really grinds my

        the gomblich effect

    • Kimski

      Food for thoughts:
      Why do you think that almost every woman’s home looks like something taken right out of an IKEA catalogue?


      • Shrek6

        Gosh, I must be looking in the wrong women’s homes. Because most of the women’s/single mother/stay at home mum’s homes I have been in, resemble a rubbish tip and smell like it too.

        And they recon men a dirty!

  • Aimee McGee

    Scary thing is that I can imagine this being true.
    I like the odd massage and I’ve even been known to get some makeup and/or hairstyling done, but the whole pamper culture leaves me cold.

    • Dr. F

      Years ago this woman gave me a massage by using a giant Gummy bear, and she polished me off with a scrubbing brush dunked in honey.

      You reckon you’ve had the odd massage mate, it’s nothing compared to my odd massage.

  • Dannyboy

    Incredibly funny but sadly true.
    This had me laughing from start to finish Dr. F but the line that nearly got me spewing my tea all over the place was
    “dried ovaries of the tiny Hawaiian Calypso Moth”
    I can just see it, scads of workers running around gathering the moths’ ovaries.
    Just a pinch will do I guess and at only a thousand moths to the pinch we’ll get them on the endangered list in no time.

  • Roger O Thornhill

    Well MY Grande Earth and Sky Goddess Deluxe Pamper Hamper contained “Sugar Free Double Fat Vanilla Bean with Butter Blobs and Cream Cupcakes.” So clearly yours IS NOT REALLY A PAMPER HAMPER is it?!

    Now my idea of a pamper hamper for men would contain the following, please see the link below…

    Great work once again Dr F, I doff my hat to you Sir!

  • lensman

    That was an awesome read! And its nice to see you draw again.

  • Dean Esmay

    But don’t ever forget, men are just selfish creatures who think of nothing but themselves and their own needs! It’s the way we are! God we just suck as a species. The world would be better off if we reduced the population to 5-10% men, max. The rest should just be castrated and cut off so the women can spend most of their time concentrating on what’s really important, themselves.

    Pamper yourself ladies, you deserve it! We’re so sorry we didn’t give you everything you asked for, can we do something to work harder to prove our worth to you?

  • typhonblue

    Stop destroying your flatware duuuuude!

    • Dr. F

      For those that read Typhon’s comment here and are wondering what that means let me explain.

      You see, I told our Typhon here that I am smashing my dishware one by one until she writes a comment.

      She has delivered her end of the bargain but hey, what about me?

      I now have busted glass all over the place here in my flat and my downstairs neighbours are ticked off at me because of the hullabaloo. Not only that, but I have to find someone to clean up this mess and oh the cost of it all.

      Typhon it’s all your fault, and at the same time I have to thank you for introducing me to this wonderful fluffy world of not being accountable and being a victim. It’s fun.

      So, I am angry at you mate and I am grateful also.

      Life is so very confusing and I refuse to grow up so there !

  • Ballast

    pfft. Really not sure why i bothered to read that.