There’s nothing better than leather pants, especially if you’re going to sleep at school.
Something about that material against my skin was pure comfort. Perhaps it was my American Indian heritage, or my dreams of being a rock star, but I liked wearing leather pants.
Sure, it resulted in the popular PETA kids hating me, but I really didn’t care that a cow was killed to make the hamburger I eat, and the leather pants I wear. At least they used the whole thing.

One day, one of the PETA kids dared to remind me of this fact.

“Do you realize a cow was murdered for those pants?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize there were any witnesses.” I said as I loomed over him. “I guess I’ll have to kill you too.”

He ran off, and that’s how I ended up in detention.