There
are plenty of gloves which have become famous thoughout history. OJ
Simpson’s gloves for example, are famous for being soaked with the
blood of innocents, and also for not fitting their alleged owner’s hands properly.

Hmm…actually
that’s the only pair of famous gloves I can think of. Guess I should’ve
thought this intro through better. Oh well, no going back now. Here’s a
review of some gloves I found at a store.

I picked the gloves off the rack, slowly slid them onto my hand, and began moaning softly.

“Mmmmm…” I said, closing my eyes, “Mmmmm…”

I went to the front of the store and tossed the gloves onto the counter.

“I
would like to purchase these gloves with some money.” I said, widening
my eyes seductively at the elderly woman behind the register.

She picked the gloves of and scanned them.

“Four dollars and fifty cents.”  She said.

I took out my debit card, and placed it between my lips.

“Ry to ake it out.” I said through clenched teeth, “Rrts a fun game I rrften play wrrth wrmrn.”

“That is obscene.” She frowned, “You are an awful man.”

“You’re a very beautiful woman.” I said, spitting the card onto the counter and leaning forward.

She scanned the card, placed the receipt on the counter,
and then walked quickly away. I watched her until she disappeared
amongst some racks of coats. Then, cursing under my breath, I took the
gloves and walked out the door. As I walked to the car, I made a silent
vow to return the next day to buy another pair, and also to make
another attempt at winning the beautiful spinster’s heart. Unfortunately I never got
the chance. The store went out of
business a few weeks later, and I assume she committed ritual suicide or something.

I
used the gloves for a few months, and they worked well. They seemed to
be mostly waterproof, and it was easy enough to write in them. I was finally
satisfied. But then one day I forgot to take the gloves home, and they
sat under the counter at work overnight. I spent the entire
night worrying that someone would steal the gloves, since the store I
had bought them from was now out of business. These gloves were
no longer only useful and comfortable; they were rare.

When
I got to work the next day, the gloves were not there. Rather, only one
of them was (the right). The other was nowhere to be
found. It was beyond belief. Who would steal just a single glove? I
wasn’t aware of any one-armed or one-handed employees at this company.
The only logical conclusion was that someone had stolen the glove
out of spite.

It was maddening. Couldn’t they have at least
taken BOTH gloves? That way I could at least take some comfort in
knowing that the thief was getting some use out of them. Or maybe I
could have deluded myself into believing that I had simply lost the
gloves. I often lose things; it wouldn’t have been too much of a
stretch. But no, they just HAD to take only ONE of them. And in doing
so, they would (knowingly or unknowingly) rub their single, ungloved
hand into the aching, gloveless lesion which had opened within my soul.

So I kept the lone glove, hoping against
hope that one day the bandit who stole its mate would one day become so
wracked with guilt that he would mail the glove back to me, and the two
would be reunited again. Of course this never occurred, and for a year
the right hand glove sat on a shelf under the stairs; useless.

A
year later, I did happen to stumble across two more pairs of the gloves
in a different sporting goods store. I quickly bought both pairs
without a second thought. But upon getting them home, I noticed that
one pair was too small, and a glove from the other pair had a hole in
it. I figured I didn’t care anymore, so now I just wear the ones with
the hole.

They work alright.