To Be Concluded

For months the evil genius had been swiping gently used female undergarments from local laundromats. Each panty, a collection that numbered well into the thousands, was neatly folded, placed into a Ziploc bag, and pinned to the wall of his lair. The contents were cataloged by the following criteria:

1) Color
2) Smell
3) Stains

A task force of Navajos was assembled to take the evil genius down. When the local Government was questioned on why they would trust these savages there was only one answer, "It's in their blood to find panties. You don't want to leave something like this up to the White Man!"
Across town a middle-aged woman was smoking pot with her sons best friend.
"We should have a funeral for the dog!!!" he bellowed.
She glared at his thighs and could make out the curvature of his limp penis compressed into tight fitting denim. He was a virgin, she could tell, and this was obviously the first time he had smoked pot. This woman had a lot of men inside her. He lips curled into a crooked scabby smile.
"Gerald, have you ever fucked?"

The town comptroller sat in his office. If these Navajo's didn't return with the Evil Genius, or the scalp equivalent, then the Mayor would fire him. "Oh fuck!!! I think I'm going to shit my pants!!!" He reached into his desk, pulled out a mini-crossbow, and placed the tip of an arrow to his forehead. "I'm sorry..."