Untapped Marketing Genius

I don't know where most people get their best thinking done, but my holy spot seems to be the porcelain throne. That's right, I'm a bathroom thinker. Don't dwell on that fact; it'll just break your brain, or give you an acute sense of jealousy/worry that the Porcelain Gods chose me to bequeath these abilities to.

It was proven, or perhaps just reinforced, this morning. I've been awake for all of 15 minutes, and the only reason I haven't posted sooner was because my computer takes so long to wake up and perform the actions I ask of it.

Most people tend to visit the porcelain throne as soon as they wake up, which is probably a good idea considering some of the other options, and I am no exception. In a drunken tired haze (I don't drink, but the way I act when I'm very tired might make one think otherwise), I stumbled inside to do my business. Which is none of your business, so if you were reading in hope to see me talk about taking my pants off, your hopes were in vain. I'm sorry. Anyways, while sitting there, looking around, bored, I happened to let my gaze fall upon a pair of my father's boxers.

Let's get one thing straight right here; I have no choice when inspiration strikes. I could be looking at a piece of dust, and suddenly I have a brilliant idea. Normally the vision of seeing a pair of my father's boxers on the bathroom floor would have me recoiling viciously, but instead, I was fixated upon the Fruit of the Loom label along the waistband.

These are the thoughts that immediately ran through my head...

Fruit of the Loom Specialty Wear!

Fruit of the Tomb; Super absorbent, anti-smelly underwear for the elderly! Or mummies.

Fruit of the Zoom; Aerodynamic underwear for the sprinter or stock car racer!

Fruit of the Womb; Diapers for that little bundle of joy you just can't allow to wear anything but the best.

Fruit of the Doom; The choice of underwear for terrorists everywhere! Or those people from the Doom video games; I'm sure they'd love to be able to use their underwear as a weapon.
WARNING: Highly explosive.

Fruit of the Room; Extra roomy underwear! Covers up that beer gut, or that leftover flap that was left by bearing your ungrateful children.

Fruit of the Platoon; Wear them - for Freedom! Ass kicking, long lasting, camo underwear for our troops.

Fruit of the Loom (no relation); For the stalker in all of us! Perfect for stealth missions where you loom over your stalkee's bed, silently mouthbreathing all over them.

Fruit of the Coon; Hunters everywhere will love these! Especially coon hunters! Comfortable and sporty, as well as sound resistent, perfect for sneaking up on unsuspecting animals you plan to maul and wear as a hat.

Fruit of the Dune; Breathable undies for dune surfing, or Egyptian residents that need a little more cool on their delicate behinds.

Fruit of the Boom; DUCK IN COVER! Explodable undies! Not reccomended for children.

Fruit of the Moon; Women everywhere will adore these... if they can get past their mood swings.

Fruit of the Moo; Cow print is so this season!

Fruit of the Fume; Malodourous? So are these! At least you won't ruin any good underwear.

Fruit of the Flume; Flame resistant underwear. Firefighters, fear not for your ass! We can't guarantee limbs, however.

Fruit of the Soon; You're pregnant; baby comes soon! If your water breaks, this will absorb it. Yay.

Fruit of the Goon; You're big. You're scary. You're not very bright. Neither are these! Perfect match!

Fruit of the Goom(ba); Feel like fucking Mario! No guarantee to conquer Bowser.

Fruit of the Broom; Either you're a maid, or the Magician's Apprentice's experiment gone wrong. Either way, these are the ginches for you!

I bet there are some companies out there wondering why this genius isn't theirs. Offer me the job; you won't be disappointed.
I swear, I'd have come up with more, but upon a second trip to the bathroom, the Porcelain Gods reclaimed their abilities to bestow another day... and I was distracted by a blue jay. Not the baseball team, I mean the ones with the really loud, obnoxious voices that make a mess of your bird feeders because they can't eat seeds like normal birds, they have to fling it everywhere to get at their favourites, which leaves your expensive bird seed little more than squirrel bait.

Fuck you, blue jays. And learn to sing; you're birds, you should not sound like a mouse getting stepped on.