Monday, October 22, 2012

pants, the give up

Here we are on the one week anniversary of me losing my pants.
Jesse, this is for you.

I am nothing but dutiful in the taking out of garbage. Each Monday is a celebration of living in a society where not only can you pick up a phone to say help and soon see professionals at your door but also here you can expect to have a couple of guys stop at the end of your drive in order to put your trash in their truck. Things like this make me feel fancy.

So I was feeling all fancy last Monday at five thirty in the morning when I loaded up the garbage and stuck it in the trunk of my car. So fancy and responsible and kind and generous and look how great I am I'll drive to the camp and get all that was thrown away at the gumbo party.

Billy Sue went with me 'cause she's fancy too and we enjoy listening to music and driving on slow, spooky dirt roads before daylight.

At the camp Billy Sue looked at me, looked at the car's bright lights shining on the door. I never can tell if she is really concerned, she always looks that way. Still I constantly try to calm her. Thus my response to her asking, Whatchu doing? was, It's alright. Just stay. I'll be right back. It was the answer she was looking for since she's not a huge fan of the dark.

The two big black bags in the camp, they were easy. One was already tied, the other simple to do. I popped the trunk, put them in, looked at Billy Sue and said, Just one more and then we're gone.

I'm saying within two minutes she heard the screams and within five more I was throwing a bag in the trunk. Getting back in the car, looking a tad bit concerned myself when she looked at me and asked, Where's your pants?

It's a long story, Billy Sue. We just have to go.
Later she overheard me tell Mom on the phone.

She answered the phone with Mornin'.
Good morning, Mom. How are you?
Good. And you?
Well other than the snake in my pants I'm fine. I mean I had to leave the pants at the camp with the snake but sometimes maybe you just have to give up the pants to the snake. I mean goodgosh.

Well you know how I like to take out the garbage and I was feeling all garbage happy and I knew it would be a whole 'nuther week before the garbage men came and we had all that garbage down at the camp.

Well I got the two bags inside and that was no problem but then when I tied off, picked up and carried the one off the back porch. Well Mom, it wasn't even within two steps I felt something long and round and thin above my left knee, crossways my leg.

Yes, Mom. I did a dance.

I know. I know. I might not can handle this country life.

What happened?
Well I danced crazy and slapped and screamed and I thought surely nothing could live through that. It was a wonder I did.

When I stopped I didn't see it but figured I better grab that bag and go. Times like that, ya' know it's time to leave.

But then Mom I picked up that bag, fixin' to head out to the car and within one step, one step I felt it again the same place I felt it before.

Yes, Mom and when I looked down at my pants I saw it wasn't on the outside of them.

Oh. Shea.
I know, I know. Mom, I grabbed that snake, held it in the leg of my pants stretched it away from my leg and thought now what do I do.

What did you do?
I left my pants on that back porch. Just sayin' if Dad goes down there and sees my pants I want to keep them. They are the purple ones.

Today I am grateful for our stories.


Chantel said...

LOL! Oh my, thank goodness your screams didn't draw spectators to your impromptu strip tease!

Anonymous said...

Better keep it to myself.

Shea Goff said...

Oh yes, Chantel. I am thankful for that.

And anonymous, I do appreciate your restraint.