Disclaimer: Everyone knows that I don't own Due South, right?
Summary: Written for the Knickers challenge on the Due South Flashfiction Live Journal Community. Be warned, it's kind of gross, but funny and tag less dialogue, a first for me.
A. Kite (August 2003)
"I get it now, Fraser."
"Get what, Ray?"
"Why you starch your boxers."
"Oh, you do now? Tell me."
"It's all about control with you. It's like, ok, all the women we met up with day to day; they go home and have spitball knickers."
"Spitball knickers?"
"Yeah, you know, where they take them off and throw 'em up against the wall, and they stick."
"That's disgusting, Ray!"
"Yeah, yeah it is. One of the definitions of gross, when your sister comes home from a date and throws her panties against the wall, and they stick. That's why you starch your shorts."
"So they don't stick to the wall at the end of the day?"
"Yeah, so you don't spunk them up after seeing all those babes juicing for you everyday."
"It's not true, you know, Ray."
"Oh?"
"Yes. The only thing that make me, as you say, spunk, my shorts is you, Ray. It's you."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah."