Papa Underpants, Little Briefs, and Boxer Shorts cleared the table and went upstairs to get ready for bed. In a rare pause between Boxer Shorts’ jibbering and jabbering, Papa Underpats gave Little Briefs a scratch on the back.

“You know,” he said. “I better not scratch you too hard.”

“Why not, Papa?”

“Well, after Granny Panties went to that great Thrift Store in the sky, she wasn’t around to tell your Grandpop Pantaloons to stop scratching his backside so much. He ended up with a big hole in his butt. You could see straight through to the inside of his fly. True story.”

Boxer Shorts laughed and a smile crept across Little Briefs’ face, but he turned away. Papa Underpants followed the brothers into the washroom where they starched themselves before crawling into their dresser, Boxer Shorts chattering the entire time.

“Papa,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Remember how I told you about our class pet, Jacket?”

“Sure. The one you raised from a thread, right?”

“Yeah. Today, Glasses let Jacket out of his cage and he was sniffing all over the floor and we totally forgot about it when we left for lunch. When we came back, Jacket was up on a desk, ripping up Overalls’ homework. Miss Corset just started yelling: Jacket, off! Jacket, off! Jacket, OFF! But he didn’t get off!” Boxer Shorts raised his hands in disbelief. “It was crazy!”

“Wow,” said Papa.

“Wow indeed,” said Live-In Lingerie, walking past the dresser with the Cloth Diaper. “Your Papa doesn’t get off sometimes, too. I tell him to run the dryer on Heavy Duty but no, no, he likes his delicate cycles.”

Boxer Shorts looked up at Papa with a questioning look. Papa shook his head and shrugged.

“Alright,” he said. “Time for bed.”

“Hold on,” said Boxer Shorts. “I want to get in some Pants.”

Boxer Shorts sprang up and ran out of the room. Little Briefs lay looking away from Papa Underpants, watching the Socks cuddle up next to one another in the drawer.

“Mr. Flannel told me what happened at recess,” said Papa Underpants. Little Briefs reached out and pet one of the slumbering socks without a word.

“He said some kids were picking on your classmate and you got upset. That you jumped on Polo Shirt.”

“They were sticking clothespins to T-Shirt, Papa!” Little Briefs looked up with reddened eyes. “And they called me the Bossy Underpants. You’re the Bossy Underpants, Papa!”

“I know. I’m not mad at you.” He rubbed Little Briefs’ back. “You know how I get extra bossy sometimes?”

Little Briefs smiled. “Yeah,” he said.

“Well, that’s because I want people to listen to me. And sometimes, when they don’t, I start to feel sad or like I don’t have any power, and everything gets loud in my head and I have to get it all out and explode like the Cloth Diaper when she does one of her giant farts.” Papa Underpants poked at Little Briefs and made a farting ThPP noise.

Little Briefs smiled again, but turned away.

“It’s not a good thing to do. I’m not proud of it, but it happens.”

“Papa.”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes, I have something scratchy inside me that needs to get out like a hairball or something. It wiggles around and then I shake real hard and it falls out and it’s a sock.”

Papa Underpants rubbed Little Briefs back again. “Okay, well, I’m proud of you for sticking up for your friend. You’re a good friend. Maybe next time you can tell the teacher.”

“Papa.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay to be bossy some of the time, but not all of the time?”

“Sometimes it’s okay. But mostly we should try to find better ways of asking people for what we need. I’ll try to be less bossy with you and Boxer Shorts in the morning. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great!” said Boxer Shorts. He waddled into the room, stuck inside a pair of Live-In Lingerie’s dirty Leggings. Papa laughed and stuffed him into his drawer.

“I love you,” he said. He bent down to give Boxer Shorts a kiss. “Oof,” he said, pulling away. “You two are definitely going through the wash tomorrow.”

“Why?” asked Boxer Shorts.

“Because you smell like Dirty Underwear.”

“Oh Papa.”

Papa turned his attention to Little Briefs. He went to roll him up for sleep, but Little Briefs stopped him.

“Papa,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Will you fold me tonight?”

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