The thought was this: If I was a pervert and I died, I’d like to be re-incarnated as a towel.
Yeah, allow that to sink in.
Now, get over the horror of such a disgusting thought, and bear with this crazy thought process of mine…
I mean, can you think of a better life to come back to? As a pervert, naked people are kind of the point, so a towel’s life would be idyllic.
I’d hope not to come back as some threadbare hand towel, where little kids wipe their snotty noses, or that people just end up using as a rag when something gets spilled on the floor.
Being a towel in an all male dormitory would be nice to look at, but the reality of getting myself washed on any sort of regular basis would be iffy. And I can only imagine the amount of puke/urine/kraft dinner that would end up all over me.
I’d want to come back as a cozy, luxury, fluffy bath sheet ideally, because then I’d probably be in some great home where people shower on a regular basis, and where I wouldn’t get thrown on the floor, or used on the dog.
I’d hang on a beautiful hook all day, warm and cozy in a gorgeous bathroom, enjoying the view while people showered (somehow I’d avoid looking, hearing or smelling when they went to the washroom), then live out my fantasy of being pulled along someone’s body, toweling off their moist skin.
When it was time for a cleaning of my own, I’d get thrown in a warm washing machine with all of my buddies, where we could swap stories, “Did you see the way Jack’s legs looked this morning? Damn, he must have started doing lunges again at the gym…” and “I know! He looks great, and that Erin – she has got the smoothest skin…”
Then I’d be fluffed in the dryer, before being folded and put on a shelf (where the pervy stories would continue), waiting for my next turn as someone’s towel.
Yep, if I was a pervert, I’d definitely want to come back as a towel.