Sean’s Pants – A Cautionary Tale

“I got invited to the Alpha Gamma sorority dance,” Vinny said, looking more miserable than a hound dog with a bad case of piles.

“Is that all?” I said with a relieved snort. “You had me worried there for a second. Is the chick asking you to go good lookin’?”

“Yeah…she’s okay.”

“Shit man…You’ll have fun. There will be free booze and dancing and who knows…you might get -“

“I don’t have any nice clothes to wear to this damn thing,” he said, interrupting me. Aha. So that was why he was all sighs and frowns, sitting slumped on my water bed.

“You look fine. Just go like that,” I joked.

“Sean…don’t be an asshole.”

Looking at my best friend I realized that he was really bothered by his plight. Quite frankly I didn’t think he’d give two shits about dances and wearing appropriate clothing.

In my eyes, Vinny was the epitome of cool. While most of us fretted about looking hip in College – Vinny wore whatever the hell he damn well wanted. He was a man’s man alright who preferred lumberjack shirts, Levis, and work boots. None of that sissified bell-bottom pants stuff and nylon shirts crap for him.

Still, I couldn’t let my buddy go to a dance looking like Paul Bunyan.

“Okay, I get it. Well, you came to the right place.” I threw open my closet door and began grabbing clothes off of hangers. “We’re about the same size…so let’s get ya fixed up.” I tossed him a shirt and some bell-bottom slacks, and a blue velour jacket to top things off.

“Seriously?”

“Yah…Go on into the bathroom and try my shit on, and let’s see how ya look, dude.”

Vinny disappeared into the bathroom to get changed.

“I don’t want to even go to this thing,” he hollered through the closed door.

There was a rustling of clothing as I heard him get changed.

Then silence.

“Okay, chicken. Come out and let’s see how you look?”

Vinny emerged well dressed and looking sheepish.

“Far out. Ya, look great. You’re gonna knock ’em dead, dude.”

Vinny looked down, picked at the shirt, and smelled his armpit.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…They’re clean and you don’t smell. I  wouldn’t be giving you stinky clothes to wear….Sheesh.”

A palpable look of relief washed over my friend’s face.

“Sean, you sure ya don’t mind?”

“Hey, it’s’ cool. Just do me a favor and don’t mess my stuff up by puking on ’em n’ shit,” I said, grabbing my jacket.

“C’mon and let’s grab a cup of coffee at the diner. I want to hear more about the chick who’s dumb enough to ask you to this soiree.”

*

Sitting alone in my Dodge Dart on Sunday morning with my nose out of joint – I nursed a paper cup of acidic coffee from the local 7/11 that would have been better used as a paint thinner than a hot beverage. 

“Hmmmph…I wonder why nobody asked me to go to that stupid dance?” I grumbled sipping the scalding coffee and enjoying my private pity party.

I mean I cleaned up nice and all.

But, the Old Man had me on a tight budget for school stuff – after basic expenses I had barely enough money to fill the tank of my car. 

So naturally, my lack of cash earned me a persona non grata status for most Greek parties.

Laurie Newcomb, a notorious Alpha Chi, had put the kibosh on my recent fantasies of dating sorority girls. Her stinging slap reminded me that the quip: “Gas, grass or ass” was a line better suited to the movies.

Oh, well…fuck ’em if they couldn’t take a joke. I thought pitching my paper cup into a nearby trash can. 

Feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to solve a damn thing. And even though I didn’t get invited I figured I’d hear about how my friend’s date went in a couple days.

That is if he bothered to return my clothes.

*

Monday rolled around soon enough, and I had only just dragged my ass out of bed when Vinny showed up at my place.

“Thanks for loaning me the clothes, Sean,” he said, handing me a brown paper bag.

“Well stud,” I prompted when he didn’t offer anything more, “how’d the date go?”

Vinny’s sour expression spoke volumes.

“Gee…that good, huh?” I said.

“Everything was cool at the dance until I ran into your ol’ pal Randy.”

“Oh no.”

“He got shitfaced and made a scene at the table I was sitting at.”

“Sounds like somethin’ he’d do,” I snickered.

“It was awful. There I was sitting at a table with my date and Randy starts babbling shit about how I had stolen his best friend “Sean” away from him.”

“Ha! You’re kidding?!” I said, oddly flattered.

“No! I am not. The jerk was knocking back drinks like he was bailing out a sinking boat. Saying stuff like – “You fucker…you took my best friend away from me. Sean doesn’t call me anymore and it’s all your fuckin’ fault.” 

“Now that’s funny.”

“And it got worse,” he said, grimly. “Randy suddenly grabs my jacket and in a loud voice says – “Hey! Isn’t that Sean’s jacket? So of course, everybody at the table starts looking at us. I tried to shake him off but he wouldn’t let go of me. Then he yells “And that’s SEAN’S SHIRT!”

At this point I was laughing so hard you coulda heard me halfway down the street.

“He then hollers – “And.. and…Those are “SEAN’S PANTS!!”  WHERE’S SEAN? WHAT’D YOU DO TO SEAN?!”

“Maybe you should have stayed home and just sent the clothes to the dance,” I said, wiping the tears of laughter from my face.

“Sean.”

“Ya know what’s really funny? Those clothes were originally loaned to me by Randy. I guess the dumb sonovabitch forgot he had given them to me when I didn’t return them.”

Vinny’s left hook to my chin took me completely by surprise.

Well, damn.

Karma’s a bitch.