This article originally appeared in the Sponsored Issue.

Hello workers of this establishment. I have an announcement to make regarding the sweater you would like me to purchase. I agree that it is flattering to my curvy shape, and I also agree that its mauve color highlights my bloodshot eyes. However, I admit that I am loath to buy this sweater because it simply does not have enough holes.

You may say, “But this sweater has four holes: one for your neck, two for your hands, and one for the trunk of your broad, sensual body.” It is true that my neck requires a hole, and I am thankful for the two holes through which my hands can poke if I need to hold an item or caress a smooth surface, like a marble countertop. But I would counter that the fourth hole is more of an opening than a hole, as it is the entire width of the sweater.

Even counting the waist opening as a fourth hole, four holes is not sufficient. I would like a fifth hole in case I ever need to store a pencil when I am wearing my sweater. I would like a sixth hole so anyone who looks at me can see that my T-Shirt has a graphic of a baby that says “Lady Gaga” on it, as this is crucial to my personal brand. I would like a seventh hole to let my navel breathe. And I would like holes eight through sixteen for easy access to all my erogenous zones.

Good sirs and ladies whose duty is to serve customers here at this fine clothing emporium and whose jobs you perform accurately and with speed, you may be shocked to hear about holes eight through sixteen. You might wonder, “How many erogenous zones do you have?” The answer is eight. You might ask, “What are they?” If you asked me that, I would respond that a gentleman never tells, but I’ll give you a hint: gills, ass (left), nipple, nipple, neck, ass (right), ear, and one to grow on. You may murmur, “But who will be stimulating so many erogenous zones through your sweater all at once?” The answer, ladies and gentlemen, is the eight employees of this very sweater store.

“Who, me?” Yes, you, sweater people. You think this smolder is something I do for everyone? You think blood has been shooting comically out of my nose because I’m not aroused? Women and men of Sweaters House Limited, I will clarify: I am aroused. I want you each to reach a hand into one of my sweater holes and just kind of rub it around. Then I will introduce you to the rest of my polyamorous cluster. Then we’ll have children, but they won’t really have parents – it takes a village to raise a child! Then those children will grow up and watch too much Internet pornography. They will fail their standardized tests because they are so busy watching said pornography. Then a seed of darkness will take hold in their sweet little hearts. It will tighten and clutch at their bodies until they move to a city with high windchill. And so the cycle continues.

I brought lube if that’s why you’re hesitating.


—W. Caplan