One Saturday long ago my family agreed to chop down a tree for my neighbor. Coincidentally the missionaries also happened to be over at her house doing their own little service project.
Because of the crowded environment and the desire of avoiding power lines, fences and houses it was necessary to tie a guide rope in the upper part of the tree to help direct it’s fall. Because I am truly a kid at heart I volunteered to shimmy up that tree and attach the rope. So I climbed up, secured myself in the branches, tied the rope on and slid down the rope to safety.
Almost thirty minutes later, after the missionaries left, when we were still cleaning up the branches my mom suddenly said “Freddy you have a hole in your pants!” I thought “Silly mom you already patched a hole in these pants.” but said “Really? Where?” Lo and behold it was also in the region of my gluteus maximus! Poor missionaries, after seeing my striped underpants for nigh on twenty minutes (I probably ripped them climbing up the tree) they were so intimidated/embarrassed/Idon’tknowwhat that they left. On top of that, they weren’t even that friendly. (I told my mom to blame my accident. She wasn’t happy. She then saw them later at DI and came home saying how they were much nicer and how she was much more impressed. I decided not to gloat publically to her face. Probably a smart idea…)
Holy cow. Is it just destined for all of us to have revealing moments this summer?
ReplyDeleteThat's pretty hilarious though, Freddy. Like, very hilarious actually. Definitely a story that you would have told us first thing at 6 in the morning while running.
Dear Freddy,
ReplyDeleteWe are soul mates or somesing. Easy, breezy, exposed soul mates. After we get married we can diaper our children in stripes. Pants are unnecessary: they'll just rip anyway.