You'd Think to a Hot Librarian,* This Sort of Thing Would Be Commonplace

It was a typical New Year's celebration - tiny weiners in sauce (heh), Dick (HEH) Clark and his dropping ball (HEH x2), board games, sullen drinking, and family squabbles until I broke away from the party for a minute to get something out of the guest room I was staying in.

The door was closed and not expecting anyone to be in there, I walked right in. What I saw stunned me. I am not easily stunned.

Have you ever been in a situation where you had absolutely zero idea what to say next, all thoughts flying from your head like frightened birds scattering to the sky? And then when your senses alighted once again after eternal seconds where your mouth did little but ineffectually open and close like a nun's pocketbook, all you could stutter out was a sort of bashful, tentative question, "...what are you...doing?" Anyone? Just me, then.

What did I see that was so troublesome? Well, it goes a little something like this: I opened the door to see my stepmother's thirty-something brother, his eyes closed rapturously, breathing in deeply as if he was gobbling oxygen at Mt. Everest's base camp, both hands grasping

MY UNDERWEAR TO HIS FACE.

Did you know the answer to the question, "What are you doing?" when you ask why your step-uncle . . . has your knickers pressed to his face is "Nothing!"?

I didn't know that. Until now, I thought the answer was, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to sniff these?"

*Actual Hot Librarian may vary