From the heart of a wood which lost its name long ago, is a place where a seeker of stories
may go.
If you've arrived in a story's your desire, come, take a seat, for what you require is
a tale from the second storytime.
Hilbert, could you pass me that knife?
Oh, oh gosh, handle first if you don't mind.
Oh of course I didn't take it as a threat.
Why ever would you be threatening me when you're such a very good crow?
Thank you Hilbert.
Yes, hello dears.
I of course am the first storyteller, and you know my loyal friend Hilbert.
I was just making some delicious wild greens soup.
All of the ingredients can be found outside in the garden, and it's so satisfying to combine
them into something delicious.
Oh, and this book here?
It's our story for today.
I don't actually have a recipe book, not for this soup anyway.
All it takes is a good broth, some potatoes, oh and just a tiny pinch of dandelion greens.
And you wind up with something amazing.
While I work on this, why don't you make yourself comfortable and listen for the voice of the
story.
Today's story is Fine Print.
Fine Print.
They pulled a wrapped maxi pad from the cabinet under the sink with a stubborn scowl.
They had considered alternatives to pads, but none were solutions.
They were all just different ways of managing the same issue, but none came with the visceral
satisfaction of physically throwing one's period into the trash.
A few letters caught Aster's eye as they unwrapped the pad, and they winced.
What's it going to be today?
You go girl, girl power for life.
There is nothing finer than having a vagina.
What salt are you rubbing in the wound today?
The text printed on the wrapper read, in a gentle curly script, it's okay, I hate you
too.
Aster's face cycled through several configurations of disgust, horror, hilarity, and confusion.
They reached for the cell phone they'd neglected to bring into the bathroom this one time,
and set the offending hygiene product aside.
They pulled another from the package and read the text.
Doubting yourself?
So do we, obviously, was printed in the same polite font as the other pad.
Aster dropped it and grabbed three more.
One of us, one of us.
Girls are great, and that's why you specifically are great.
Wow, pathetic.
Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, Jeff.
Aster tumbled out of the bathroom, panties up, pants around ankles, barefoot, and desperate.
Their husband, Jeffrey, blinked, set his unsiped mug of tea down on the kitchen counter, and
turned to the flustered love of his life.
No paper?
Instead of attempting to catch the hastily thrown maxi pad, Jeff waited until it careened
awkwardly across the room, bounced off his chest, and landed on the floor.
He tilted his head to the side quizzically and joked, uh, I'm all set, but thanks for
thanking me.
Don't be an asshole, read the crazy shit they printed on it, Aster snapped, finally
remembering to pull their pants up.
Jeff retrieved the wrapped maxi pad from the floor and turned the packaging over several
times, searching for the small snippet of text.
Uh, it says, women rule.
I don't get it, how is that crazy?
Aster snatched the pad back and read the text again.
It was exactly as Jeff had read it.
Aster breathed a sigh of relief.
Oh, okay, I guess it was just a few of them.
A few of your pads had crazy things printed on them?
Yeah, hang on.
Aster opened the bathroom door again and retrieved one of the pads that they had previously hurled
to the floor.
Aster checked the printed text again.
Fraud!
Read the cruel and curly text.
Like this shit right here!
Aster thrust the product into Jeff's outstretched hand.
You go girl.
Jeff read the text aloud.
Well, I mean, yeah, that is pretty generic, but I don't know, I'd call it crazy.
Aster took in a deep breath, attempting to cushion their internal rage.
Okay, stop it, messing with me isn't helping, Aster seethed.
It's not?
Aster gestured wildly at the wrapped product in Jeff's hand.
I mean, yeah, of course it's not a good time, why else would I be using one of those?
Oh, no, it's period time I get it.
You can't even begin to get it.
Aster grumbled.
Jeff took in a long, slow breath and rolled his eyes.
I'm not messing with you is what I meant.
I know it's not a good time to mess with you.
Aster could feel heat rising on their face.
Embarrassment was creeping in, but there was an unresolved issue.
They tried to grab back the Maxi pad, but Jeff held it out of reach.
Why are you turning this into a whole thing?
The pad says something mean on it, I don't like it, that's it.
Aster flailed and eventually retrieved the Maxi pad.
It really doesn't though.
Why do you care so much?
You're getting pretty worked up.
Jeff returned to his mug of tea.
Aster knew that his love was right, but that knowledge did not ease the creeping and visible
pressure.
I just think that even if it's supposed to be sarcastic or something, you shouldn't
print mean shit on a product like this, they defended.
Agreed, but there's nothing really mean printed there.
Jeff sipped at the warm mint concoction as it continued to steep.
So I'm just making it up, Aster challenged.
I didn't say that.
I would have to be, wouldn't I?
I didn't say you were making it up, Aster.
But somebody printed hateful stuff on a product I use and it makes me feel like trash.
The volume of Aster's voice grew louder, as did Jeff's in an attempt to keep up.
I don't think it's really, why would I want to make myself feel like trash?
I don't know, that sucks.
Jeff suddenly shouted.
I don't want to feel these shitty things about myself.
I know that, Aster.
Then why do I feel so bad?
Because you aren't a girl.
Jeff retorted, with a hint of a smile in his voice.
In the following silence, the forgotten maxi pad slipped from Aster's hand, landing on
the cool kitchen floor.
Aster's mouth twitched, before they uttered a sustained wheeze.
The familiar precursor to their laugh.
Huh, now, what was it that I put in this jar?
Maybe some dried lavender or...
Oh, I have to get out of here.
Oh, no, nothing good in there.
Just a failed cooking experiment.
But, oh well, no good in lamenting our mistakes, eh?
Any rate, I hope today's story was as good as this suit.
Eugh, eugh, eugh.
Oh, of course there's dandelion bread for you.
Eugh, eugh, eugh.
Well, I'm going to enjoy this meal, but if there is a type of story you'd like to hear,
please do let me know.
For now, be well and carry today's story in your heart.
Today's tale has ended, but return once again to this place where you are considered a friend.
Return to this tower in its mysterious dwelling.
For more from the Librarium, The Second Storyteller.
Thank you for listening to The Second Storyteller.
If you have a prompt for a story, please send it to thesecondstoryteller at gmail.com.
If your prompt is selected, your name will be credited at the end of the episode.
Today's prompt was a non-traumatic dysphoria story, please.
Admitted by Araskley Egg.
If you would like to help support the future of this podcast, please consider becoming
a patron by going to patreon.com slash thesecondstoryteller.
A donation as small as a dollar is greatly appreciated and helps keep us going.
A donation of just $10 a month puts you on the list of current library card holders,
and your name will be read at the end of the episode.
The Second Storyteller podcast and the featured stories were written and created by Katie
Chacon.
The role of the Second Storyteller is played by Charles Scott.
The role of the first Storyteller is played by Katie Chacon.
Today's voice of the story was provided by Katie Chacon.
The voice of the intro and outro is Chris Camp, and you can find the fantastic games he's
worked on at rix.itch.io, that's r-i-k-s dot itch dot i-o.
The music was written by Fintan, who can be found at garbagebag, all one word, dot itch
dot i-o.
The Second Storyteller will return next month with more magic, fun, and of course, a story
to tell.