The Eighth Page

The Brotherhood of Missing Pants

I had just bought two new pairs of jeans, so I took them to a tailor to get them hemmed. I’m a little bit wider than I am long, so I have to do what I can. My first mistake was wearing one of the new pairs of pants as I got in my car and drove across town to the tailor. Upon arriving there and getting the first pair of pants pinned for length, a thought hit me: “Dang, I’m not going to have any pants to wear on the way home.” But what could I do? I had them adjusted, left my two pairs of pants at the store and got back in my car in just a T-shirt and tighty-whities, with my face looking like a cherry from embarrassment. I proceeded to drive home in my dad’s car while simultaneously talking on the phone, texting on my other phone, playing video games with my left foot, listening to music and watching Cribs when all of a sudden, BAM! I rear-end the car in front of me. Now I have to deal with this accident in just my underwear. And, of course, there’s a cop on the scene immediately. It also didn’t help that the song I was listening to at the time was “Get Naked” by Britney Spears. Any Britney song doesn’t leave a great impression, but “Get Naked?” Come on, Jesse. The policeman tried to avoid questioning my lack of trousers, but eventually couldn’t restrain himself. I was so embarrassed by the truth that I made up a new tale that I felt was more fitting. I tried to explain to the cop that I had been wearing my pants when I went to my girlfriend’s house, but that I left them there due to a poorly placed stain. Perhaps in hindsight that wasn’t the best thing to tell a cop as I believe they may frown upon such things. I also had to explain how it was possible that a guy like me could even have a girlfriend, which was tough because I didn’t really believe it myself. Eventually, he gave up trying to understand such a complex thing and continued to interrogate me about the accident. Finally, we traded insurance, and the policeman called my parents and asked them to ferry me home. So my mom came to pick me up, but, in the meantime, the cop got another call and had to leave. This left me standing on the side of a busy street in my tighty-whities after midnight. After just two minutes, a man in a white van pulled over and asked me, “How much?” It took me a few seconds to realize what he meant, and when I did I was off and running. As I was running, my phone, which was tucked into the tighty-whities for lack of a pocket, began to vibrate. Oh, what a sensation! It was my girlfriend, and she wanted to know why she had just seen me running down the street in just my underwear. This time, I told the story, and she turned around and picked me up. Thank God! My night of pant-less terror would finally come to an end.