In a town down South, where eccentricity may be viewed as a charming oddity, if not actually embraced, there lived an old woman, probably in her eighties. She was slight of build, with gray and curly hair, and wandered around wearing scuffs on her feet and an old-style housecoat with nothing underneath.
She would stroll some days through her neighborhood and “entertain” those she encountered by lifting and holding up her housecoat and exclaiming “Superpussy!” On such days, one victim after another was exposed to her show and shown her “Superpussy!” Old and younger, singly and in pairs, people were treated to her “Superpussy!” show.
One day the woman came upon an old man being pushed in his wheelchair by a caregiver. The old man, somewhat thin and frail, was bald on top and wore thick, wire-framed glasses. The woman, true to her style, approached and stood before the man, lifting her housecoat and exclaiming “Superpussy!”
The old man leaned forward in his chair, pursed his lips and squinted his eyes as he made a lengthy examination. When done, he relaxed back into his wheelchair and told the caregiver, “I’ll take the soup.”