Story Time – on hauntings and tampons – the universe is hysterical (insert sarcastic tone here)
Did you know that women who have hysterectomies may experience phantom tampon pain for days, months or even years post surgery? What kind of F-ed up crap is this? It is really a thing.
Phantom tampon pain. Even the name is absurd. Like some sort of CVS haunting – picture it- an urban legend of sinister Tampax skulking the aisles of Walgreens at the witching hour.
Teens dare their friends to go in on Halloween night when the realm between the living and the ridiculous is most thin. Almost as thin as an Always pad. At least that is what the marketing will have you believe.
Stories spread until catching the attention of local paranormal groups.
Now imagine: in an effort to up their YouTube feed views and their TikTok likes- novice Ghost hunters decide to investigate the local pharmacy just before the witching hour as the legends suggest.
Of course they are all men. Thinking they can tackle this location with ease. It is just a phantom tampon after all. It can’t be that bad right?
They approach a local Walgreens, lights out, moon high in the sky. An ominous mist covers the parking lot.
They enter the store cautiously but with a certain amount of false bloated confidence. Something feels off. Just sideways. They start to sweat. They feel a bit crampy. Their dinner must not be agreeing with them.
Cameras rolling, they approach the dreaded aisle of feminine products – only to hear the immediate whispers of a wrapper opening. They look to each other in confusion. Who is opening a bag of potato chips? Because of course, they don’t recognize the sound for what it is. None of them are even close to the chips aisle so they move on.
Suddenly –
EMF detectors start going bonkers as the hormonal ghostly cardboard tubes search for their long lost love – chilling chants of “peannnuttt butterr” can be heard on EVP recorders. The bathroom door swings open and slams shut. Open. Shut. Slamming over and over again.
Thermal imaging shows hot flashes right around the wine aisle. The ovilus is screaming “peroxide removes blood” – sinister tomes over and over … it is maddening in its repetition.
The show is just beginning, this amount of activity is just the precursor to more intense happenings.
Research found that historical accounts and stories state that you can reach peace with the phantom tampon with an offering of heating pads and midol. This advice is ignored by most as simple legend. Surely heating pads wouldn’t appease a phantom. Hogwash. Our crew moves on. Not even a Reese’s to protect them.
Entering camera frame is an overly masculine ghost hunter wearing the requisite black tshirt, three sizes too small- You know the type – the type that, when purchasing said products, will hide them under a head of lettuce at the check out. Averting his eyes from the cashiers in an attempt to be subtle.
Our overly masculine ghost hunter starts antagonizing our phantom tampon. Insisting on its attention to his presence. Demanding an audience. Inserting himself into the realm of the phantom tampon without a care on how to deal with such an entity. His bravado clearly backfires…..
Almost immediately, a hissing can be heard, a rising crescendo of seething hatred. The temperature drops drastically. Chilling the whole team to their core.
All the instruments are suddenly quiet as their batteries have been swiftly drained to nothing.
No light. No sound. And then …..
Our supposedly fearless ghost hunter feels a tugging on his arm. He jumps in surprise, shouting to his colleagues.
He looks at them, only to see the color drain from their faces – their eyes wide with terror.
He turns and is instantly shocked to see tampax flying off the shelves at him. Pads, tampons and even the diva cups have gotten in on the action. He is under attack.
He runs from the store, knowing that remaining for one more second would certainly mean his horrific demise. His ghost hunting crew follows suit as the phantom tampon increases its activity. The teams makes a hasty exit … fearful of what could happen next.
Outside in the parking lot –
They are out of breath. Shaken. Obviously unsure of next steps. They talk of shamans, exorcists, sage, burning it to the ground ….
Suddenly we hear a giggle off camera. The giggle turns to outright laughter as the camera pans to a female assistant who is standing at the pharmacy door. Her laughter is chilling to our crew of ghost hunters. She turns to them with a knowing smile. In her hand is a bottle of Midol. The camera centers on the bottle and fades to black.
Cue credits.
To this day, the legend of the phantom tampon is told around campfires and in bars over wine and charcuterie. It is also mentioned by women haunted by the presence post hysterectomy.
Parentingandwine 