Something was amiss. My boxers were not right. Wallace must’ve felt something like this in The Wrong Trousers.

I had dressed hurriedly after my morning shower, grabbing just-dried clothes out of the drier and jumping into them like I was flying madly to catch a bus–which I was. Being late to class is not a way to impress the girl who’s always on time…more on that in a moment. I made my bus, barely, and now sat in my regular spot. In the mad bus-catching routine I hadn’t noticed it, but now I did.

My boxers were not right; they were scrunched, and it was bad.

I tried the butt-shift to straighten out this miscreant pair of boxers. It’s definitely the static, I thought. Just-dried cargo shorts (warm and comfy!) + just-dried boxers = static. Duh. I couldn’t get them in order though, not with the mere butt-shift…this case called for more intensive remediation.

I stepped off the bus–this route runs through campus and drops me off right by the building of my first class; I did not have much time or distance. Boxer-wearers out there, I’m sure you all know this move: the slight-leg-shake-step. If you wear boxers and don’t know it, then you should; it’s inconspicuous and useful. You can fix your undergarment while simply looking like you’re shaking out your leg muscles, as if cramped or sore from the previous day’s strenuous workout. Brilliant. I took two steps with this move, opting for the left leg. It didn’t work. My boxers refused to get their act together; they actually seemed even more scrunched about. Not cool.

Double-slight-leg-shake (i.e. both left and right, one after the other) for four steps. This one’s less inconspicuous, but much more effective. It didn’t work.

Oh hi Sally Jane!
(Name changed for privacy’s sake. Let’s just say that Sally Jane is a very nice and very pretty girl who I may or may not have wanted to impress at the time)

Say what? Oh that? Haha, I’m actually OK, just trying to shake out my quads and calves–I did my regular hill running workout yesterday;  I’m just trying to be a bit quicker on the pitch so I can stuff a few more goals in the net before the season is up.

Oh, you play soccer too? Right on! What position do you play? Oh you’re a forward too? That’s so cool! We should go kick it around someti–

–two things happened:

1. I became aware that my boxers were not scrunched about. It was a sock! A miscreant sock had clung tightly to my boxers. This distracted me, so I stopped talking.

2. This sock, for some reason I will never know, suddenly renounced it’s allegiance to static cling and decended gracefully out of my cargo shorts. It landed square between my feet.

(Ah..well, to be honest #1 happened as #2 happened)

But I’m better than that. In the twinkling of a moment, without missing even a fraction of a beat, I deftly and casually shifted my footing  to cover the sock with my fancy running shoe. With a confident air I glanced back up and began to ask about her weekend.

So how was–

She was looking at my feet. I looked at my feet. I’d missed, and the sock was sticking out from under my shoe.

The End.

Disclaimer:
This may or may not have actually happened. I say this because if it did happen, I’d like you to think it didn’t (no duh), and if it didn’t I’d like to not ruin the fun by having you think it didn’t. Your call.