The Special Category

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An optional explanation about the anagram in green, the subject is in black, the anagram is in red.

901


A young man named David decided to buy his new girlfriend a pair of gloves for Christmas. After all, they'd only been dating for three weeks so it seemed like the ideal gift - romantic, yet not too personal.

He asked his girlfriend's younger sister to accompany him to buy them, then she could point out a pair she'd like.

They went to the mall and the sister pointed out a pair of white gloves which David then bought.

The sister then picked out a pair of panties for herself and bought them. But during the wrapping, the clerk mixed up the parcels without anybody realising. As a result, the sister got the gloves and David took home a gift box containing the panties.

Without realising, he rushed the gift round to his sweetheart's doorstep, but only after drafting this loving and helpful note to accompany it:

"Dear Sara - I chose these because I've noticed you are not in the habit of wearing any when we go out in the evening.

Had it not been for your sister Janet, I would have chosen the long ones with the buttons, but she wears the short ones that are easier to remove.

These are a delicate shade, but the lady I bought them from showed me a pair she'd been wearing for the last three weeks and they were hardly soiled.

I had her try yours on for me and she looked really smart.

I wish I could be there to put them on for you the first time. No doubt, many other hands will come in contact with them before I get the chance to see you.

When you take them off, do remember to blow in them before putting them away, as they'll naturally be a bit damp from wearing.

Just think how many times I'll kiss them during the coming year. I do hope you will wear them for Christmas Eve.

My fondest love.

David x

P.S. I'm told the latest style is to wear them folded down with a little fur showing."


Scott, who lived in the north of England, decided to go on a golfing trip in Scotland with his best pal, Chris.

So they loaded up his minivan with their golf clubs and headed north.

After travelling for some hours, they found themselves caught up in a terrible snowstorm.

So they pulled into a nearby farm and asked the attractive lady who answered the door if they might stop the night there.

'I realise the weather is terrible out there and I have this huge house all to myself, but I am recently widowed,' she explained, 'the neighbours will talk if I let you stay in my house.’

'Ah, no problem,' Scott smiled. 'We'll be more than happy to sleep out in the barn, if that's OK? I expect we'll be gone at first light, if the weather breaks.'

The woman agreed, and the two pals made their way to the barn to settle themselves in for the night.

Come morning, the weather was clear again, so they went on their way.

Their golf weekend was thoroughly enjoyable, too.

About nine months later, Scott got an unexpected letter from an attorney.

It took him a few minutes to figure it out, but it emerged that it was from the attorney of the attractive widow they'd met on their golfing weekend.

Later, he popped over to see his friend Chris and asked him: "Chris, do you remember that good-looking widow from the farm we stayed at on our golf weekend about nine months ago?"

'I do,' replied Chris.

'Well, did you happen to get up in the night, leave the barn and pay her a visit at her house?'

'Oh... um, yeah...' Chris mumbled, a bit embarrassed about having been found out, 'I confess, it's true.'

'Hmm, I see... and did you happen to fictitiously give her my name instead of yours?'

Chris's face turned red and he said, 'Oh heck. Yeah, I'm so sorry, Scottie, I confess this is true, too. But why do you ask?'

'She's just died and left me everything!'


902

[[Sara Teasdale's wintery poem is anagrammed into a poem about the fate of polar glaciers which also contains a relevant constraint:]


A Winter Night by Sara Teasdale

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold tonight.
The moon is cruel and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro.
God pity all the poor tonight
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.

My room is like a bit of June,
Warm and close-curtained fold on fold,
But somewhere, like a homeless child,
My heart is crying in the cold.




To Those Doomed Titans in the North Pole

Grand like a cliff in endless realms so white,
Grim like a crypt in early rays of dawn,
Gem-like and crisply-iced, each smoothly bright,
Great lumps are crumbling, instantly withdrawn.
God's limber arms created these to stand;
God left a wholesome spot to me and you.
Good lord! If He did it, with His two hands,
God knows that point we wish not to be true:
If those cool jewels are hit, we will be too.

[The poem depicts the melting of the glaciers through horizontal acrostics in each line's first letters; the first line spells out GLACIERS, and they then gradually disappear:]

To Those Doomed Titans in the North Pole

Grand like a cliff in endless realms so white,
Grim like a crypt in early rays of dawn,
Gem-like and crisply-iced, each smoothly bright,
Great lumps are crumbling, instantly withdrawn.
God's limber arms created these to stand;
God left a wholesome spot to me and you.
Good lord! If He did it, with His two hands,
God knows that point we wish not to be true:
If those cool jewels are hit, we will be too.