It was a sunny Saturday morning and Reality was lurking in a hydrangea bush whilst it stared through the blinds of Steve's humble first floor apartment. The blinds were drawn, which dissuaded most prying eyes, however to Reality, the spaces between the blinds were as wide as the rings of Saturn and it could see Steve as clearly as if they had been standing no more than a carbon atom's breadth apart from one another.







Steve, a muscular fellow in his late 30's with a penchant for working on his goatee and a gleaming motorcycle in the garage he was far too afraid to ever ride, was trying on a new brassiere. Reality admired the way the low-cut black lace brassiere adorned Steve until admiring from a distance was no longer sufficient. Closer inspection was required. With an expression of determination, Reality gathered its purloined soft royal blue satin nightgown about what passed for legs and stepped through Steve's wall with what it hoped was a graceful movement.






Steve's eyes bulged as the giant dark wraith slipped into his home and clutched his Victoria's Secret brassiere to his chest like a talisman.






“Oh God,” he croaked. “I am going to die wearing lingerie.”






“ARE YOU?” Reality inquired. “THERE ARE WORSE WAYS TO DIE, I SUPPOSE. MUCH WORSE WAYS,” it mused ominously.






“Please,” Steve stammered, “Just make it quick.”






“MAKE IT QUICK? YOU WISH FOR ME TO MAKE YOU LINGERIE? DO I LOOK LIKE A SEAMSTRESS?” Reality was confused, however it was not concerned by being confused for confusion was, to a large extent, Reality's natural state of being. Very little in the world ever made sense, and the few things that were coherent and certain, like death and taxes, seemed to usually be cause for great concern.






Steve gaped, and Reality passed the time, which from its perspective passed at the liquid slow speed of a dandelion unfurling its yellow petals to the sun, by swishing its pretty blue satin nightgown about the place, hoping that Steve might notice it and perhaps make comment.






“Am I dead yet?” Steve asked eventually.






“DEAD? I DO NOT THINK SO,” Reality replied, a hint of annoyance in its deep booming voice.






“You're not death, coming for me?”






“DEATH?” Reality was insulted. Death always wore the same tatty old black robe it had worn since the dawn of time. Death would never have thought to have shown up in such a charming and debonair fashion.






“I AM REALITY,” Reality explained with a wounded air.






“Oh. Reality,” Steve mumbled, rubbing his eyes.






“I WEAR A DRESS. YOU WEAR A BRA.”

 






“I do wear a bra,” Steve agreed, his face pale as he took a step back towards his dresser drawers.



“I LIKE YOUR BRA.” Reality sidled coyly closer to the stunned human.



“Oh, do you?” Steve asked over his shoulder as he rifled through a drawer filled with pills in various cheerful colors. There were a lot of labels ending in 'zac' and 'ax' and other chemical terms. “Where is my lithium? Where is my lithium?”Steve chanted.



“MAY I TRY IT ON?” Reality asked politely, clutching its hands together before itself and swaying coquettishly.



“Sure, sure,” Steve replied. He unhooked his brassiere and tossed it towards Reality, who wasted no time in donning it over the blue satin nightgown. Reality admired the pretty patterns the lace made in the soft morning sun as the satin sparkled through the holes in the lace.



“AM I NOT PRETTY?” Reality inquired of the unfortunate gentleman who had now elected to shrink into a corner of the room and rock back and forth holding his knees.



“Yes, pretty, very pretty,” Steve agreed, shutting his eyes tightly. “I'm dreaming. I've fallen asleep and I'm dreaming,” he said, pinching the skin of his arm.



“PRETTY,” Reality agreed.



Steve opened his eyes, seeming surprised and disappointed that Reality was still there, now admiring itself in his mirror.



“I WILL WEAR THIS,” Reality announced at length.



“Er, okay, but you really should wear it...”



“I WILL WEAR THIS EVERY DAY. I AM PRETTY IN MY LINGERIE. PRETTY,” Reality chanted the positive affirmation in the mirror, ignoring Steve's comments. A nice young man by the name of Tony Robbins had once informed Reality that positive affirmations were an excellent way to inspire and motivate. Reality liked being inspired and motivated.



“IT LOOKED GOOD ON YOU, BUT I THINK IT LOOKS EVEN BETTER ON ME,” Reality informed Steve, who had now raised his hand for an opportunity to speak. Reality was unfamiliar with the convention, so ignored him entirely.



“But you really should put it on un...”



“UNITING THE FORCES OF SATIN AND LACE, I COULD NOT HAVE SAID IT BETTER MYSELF,” Reality agreed as it swaggered towards the window, proudly wearing both the satin nightgown, and atop that, like a badge of honor, Steve's delicate lace brassiere.



Steve watched as Reality melted through his blinds and into the great universal beyond now clad in two pretty pieces of lingerie. Suddenly the room was unbearably empty, hollow. Steve stood up tentatively, hardly daring to believe the events that had just taken place. It would have been easy to dismiss the entire affair as a delusion, but he could not deny that his favorite black lace brassiere was gone, and still in the quiet of the morning, a refrain flowed to him from over the hydrangeas and far away “PRETTY IN MY LINGERIE, I AM PRETTY IN MY LINGERIE...”