No pants … & a Thanksgiving pie

Picture it. Georgia. 2013. It is a cold Thanksgiving Night. After working a double at her job, a lone woman walks out of the elevator and into the fluorescent glow of the office building lobby. She slips on a grey coat and opens the door to walk into the cold air. Almost whimsically she pauses to look at the sky and …lets out a huge, puttering, cheek-clapping fart.

I roll up my car window and look at her with a stare that says…get it out now. You ain’t doing that in my car. From the confines of my car, with the heat on and the faint noise of John Tesh radio in the background I hear another tootyhonk that made me wonder if my friend was crippled from it.

Me- ” What the hell did you EAT?”

Candace- “Fuckin Deviled Eggs!”

Me- (just stares in horror)

Candace- “And you can just shut the hell up, I’ve been holding it in all day. Except for elevators…gotta let one go in the elevator.”

Me- “Ok Miss Congeniality, let’s go, the Thanksgiving After Party has just started and we can still make it.”

Candace- ” Gaw I can’t wait to get out of here, and out of these stupid clothes. I’ll meet you out there, I’m going home to change really quick, let the dog out and I’ll be out there.”

Me- ” Cool. See ya there.”

Candace later told me that her bloating stomach from the Deviled-eggs (from the office-catering) created more “sulfur puffs” as she drove in the direction of pant-less freedom.

During the drive home to change, Candace received a call from her sister who advised she was needed for a ride.

So Candace goes…Muttering and puttering in disgust for being detracted from the goal.

Upon arrival at her sister’s house, Candace realized that the “quick ride” turned to an involved “I Love Lucy” type debacle.

Finally an hour later, Candace sits back down in her car, regretting the “toot” she let slip before shutting her door on the way OUT of the car…and drove with a half-smile towards the goal. (To change out of the too tight pants)

Then the cell phone rang.

Candace had forgotten she was going to swing by her parent’s house to get a pie to take to the party.

She turned again and went towards the quick pick up… and FINALLY go change.

Candace finally leaves (after much conversation and her gas-holding) And with a smile, she totes the pie and toots back to her car.

No pants had become more an obsession than a wish for comfort…and she proceeded home with precision, determination and with the phone under her left buttcheek. (Take that!)

Once at home, she ripped off her pants. ( She realized after, that setting down the pie first, would have made this easier.) She then threw on an embarrassingly long T-Shirt…and in sub-degree weather, took out her dog.

It was at this time, I called to see where my pie was…I mean my friend.

Candace- ” You would not believe…”

Me – ” Hello to you too.”

Candace- ” You would NOT believe…”

Me-” Well tell me when you get here.”

Candace-” The hell if I’m going ANYWHERE.”

Me-” Why?”

Candace-(almost irrationally) ” I’m not going to wear pants!”

Me- “Candace, you are not making sense.”

Candace- “I’ll fill you in on the going ons of the night from work to home…but for now. I’m going to sit pantless and eat my motherfuckin pie.”

Me- (laughing) ” Ohhh Kay crazy pants”

Candace- “No! No no no no pants.”

Me-“Ok. No pants…”

Candace- ” Right, and a motha…”

Me- “…fuckin pie. ( cracking up laughing ) So what kinda pie is it anyway.

Candace- ” My pie is a damn Pumpkin Custard Pie.”

Me- ” Oh, I have never had that before.”

Candace- “Well, and you won’t. This pie is mine, to eat without pants.”

Me- “I wonder if the first thanksgiving was so magical…”

Candace-“Now, I wouldn’t mind a hat.”

Advertisements

Thoughts? Leave a reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s