Martin Scorager, a seemingly genteel individual in his insistantly unspecified mid-to-late twenties, has gone on strike until the UNITHONG Corporation brings back production of their brand of edible panties.

“They’re the tastiest!”says Scorager, who is camped in a symbolic lack of luxury – one 1974 Dodge Caravan with nothing more than the last remaining case of Peach flavored UNITHONG panties.

“You could say this is the only thing I have left to live for,” says Scorager.”NO, really, you couldsay that. I don’t even like when women wear them anymore. It’s fucked up. I can’t help it. I just want to eat the panties.”

Scorager then went on to describe his diet consisting of different flavored panties to correlate with the days meals. “Each one has to be a three courser,” says Scorager. “Seriously, I need some help. This is a cry for help.”

Scorager, having recently only come out of his household shower (in which he subsisted on only Unithong panties and tears), has developed what scientists like to call “Panty-gut;” a self-inflicted disease not dissimilar to scurvy, in which one’s tear ducts become relocated to the salivary glands. “Why are you laughing when I talk, I seriously need help. You’re the first person I’ve ever felt comfortable enough to reach out to. Why don’t you acknowledge what I say? Turn the tape recorder off!”

When asked when Scorager was planning to come out it was suggested that the interview be ended and that I never come back

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