The heartbreak of pantslessness

Ah the heartbreak of pantslessness. The 7-11 clerk had good reason to show disdain for my naked legs. What’s amazing is that it took me so long to realize this. As I loudly protested the refusal of service, pounding the orange formica with one fist, my right hand went to retrieve my wallet.

In a pair of pants.

That weren’t there.

I backed away from the counter and felt the icy stares of fully clothed patrons on the hairs of my thighs. Or maybe that was the draft from the automatic door. I wanted to leave, to go home and get my pants, to get my Cheetos and water from a rival chain. But my legs would move no further, and the store seemed to spin around me, and it was then that I heard a friend’s voice:

“You haven’t been in math class all semester! Are you ready for the exam?”

Ah, the heartbreak of pantslessness. And of exams on a sunday afternoon.

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