It was a quiet evening within the walls of Our Church. About the only sound to be heard was the steady typing of Starlight Glimmer as she worked at her computer. She was in the process of completing the latest draft of her newest sermon, "The Lake of Fire: God's Divine Impeachment". Her attention was solely fixed upon her progress, only occasionally breaking for a sip of her cocoa.
That was before she heard what sounded like a door slam, followed by a series of stomps. They became louder and louder as they proceeded down the hallway toward Starlight's office. Finally came the frightened cries of two cats along with desperate scratching upon her door. Starlight jumped up and opened it. A small, black kitten named Lil' Trotsky and an old, pudgy tabby named Chairman Meow darted into the safety of her office. They went behind her desk, desperate to hide from whatever demonic entity that dared enter the sanctuary.
Starlight glared out to face this force of evil, only to behold something far, far worse: a very angry Sour Sweet.
"Oh, Sour!" Starlight greeted. "Something wrong?"
Sour's left eye twitched. "May I vent for a minute?"
"What are friends for?" Starlight hesitantly answered as she gestured her in.
Starlight went back to sit behind her desk. She picked up Trotsky to lay in her lap as Meow chose to curl up at the foot of her chair as he often preferred.
"So, today is Second and I's anniversary," Sour sighed furiously as she took her seat. "And you wanna know what the IDIOT decided to get me?"
Before Starlight could respond, Sour whipped out an item from her purse. Dangling in the air by two fingers was a pair of frilly, white panties with a strategically placed opening in the shape of a heart.
"I found THESE wrapped up in a pretty box upon my desk at work this morning!"
Starlight blushed as she placed her hand in front of Lil' Trotsky's innocent eyes. "Oh, wow... that's, uh..."
"After all these years and countless rants about feminism, sexism, chauvinism, and all the other isms, he decides to buy me LINGERIE?!" Sour shouted, stuffing the offending article of clothing back into her purse. "Has Second learned absolutely NOTHING?! Buying sexy underwear isn't a gift for ME, it's a gift for HIM! What, does he consider me his private concubine or something?! If I wanted something CROTCHLESS, I would've bought it myself, dammit!"
"Sour, perhaps you're blowing this out of proportion just a bit? It's perfectly normal for married couples try to make things, you know, spicier in the relationship. Maybe you should just talk to Second before getting angry?"
Sour's eye twitched again. "Oh, there's not going to be very much talking being done when I'm using these panties to strangle Second's last stupid breath from his body!"
Sour abruptly got up and began stomping out of Starlight's office.
"Um, Sour, you know Second may actually enjoy that, right?" Starlight tried to call out.
But it was too late. Sour was gone.
Sour Sweet drove like a madwoman on a mission straight home. She rushed inside and was about to head upstairs before she noticed Bitter Honey and Gretchen lying on the living room floor. They were hovering over some children's sports game on a tablet. It was as good as time as any to impart some wise parental advice, Sour decided.
"Girls, NEVER get married!" Sour spat. "Boys will only string you along for years with their fedora-tipping-knight-in-shining-armor act before they finally reveal the SICK PERVERTS they truly are!"
With that, she stomped up the stairs.
"Okay, mama," Bitter nonchalantly replied. She was approaching age five and had well enough experience to not take her mother's angry rants too seriously.
"Why would we want to marry boys anyway?" Gretchen asked.
"Dunno," Bitter replied as she swiped her finger to score a goal for their team.
Sour made it up to the door of Second Person's home office. Her knuckles cracked in anticipation. Her husband was mere moments away from being toast. She forcefully opened up to reveal her target sitting in his chair, facing the doorway as if he was expecting her.
"Hey, honey," Second cheerfully greeted.
"Don't 'hey honey' me, buster!" Sour growled before whipping out the sexy, but incriminating evidence against him. "Explain THESE!"
Second's smile grew brighter. "Oh, good! You got your red herring present."
"You bet your dead meat tuchis I got your -" Sour paused, blinking in confusion. "Wait. Red... herring...?"
Second shrugged. "You didn't really think with all the isms you've crammed into my head over the years that I'd give you lingerie, did you?" He got up and opened a drawer of his desk. "I just wanted your real present to be an extra special surprise..."
Out from the drawer came a stack of paper. It was about the usual size for the printed manuscripts of his novels. He reverently handed the document to his wife. Her eyes widened as she saw the title:
Sour 'n Sweet 'n Pretty: Living and Loving with Schizophrenia
"It's just the first draft," Second explained. "Of course, nothing in it will be published without your say-so. That is, if you want any of it to be published."
Sour glanced up at him in disbelief. "You wrote a book about... me?"
Second smiled and leaned in closer, softly replying, "Because you have a story that deserves to be told, Sour. You can help a lot of people who have been in your situation. You can give them hope." He kissed her forehead. "Besides, I couldn't resist from writing about my favorite subject forever, could I?"
Sour's eyes teared up. She launched herself and latched onto her dear husband in a warm embrace.
"Thank you, Second."
"Thank you for being my wonderful wife, Sour."
She loosened her hold on him and suddenly held up the crotchless panties once again. A sultry grin spread across her face.
"Maybe we can find a use for my red herring gift, after all..."
Second grinned stupidly. "You know, I did buy the matching bra just in case you actually liked it."
His wife's fist struck his stomach with full force. Second immediately fell to the floor onto his knees. Tears of satisfied pain formed in his eyes as he glanced up to his beaming Sour Sweetheart.
"Happy anniversary, dork."