Paul and the Inconvenient Pair of Pants

‘Mild’ they said. A ‘mild’ day of weather ahead, they had assured Paul. What a dick he felt like now. If he had known that their idea of ‘mild weather’ was a stinking hot forty-two degree day, then he would have never worn his bloody black trousers to work in the first place.

Of course, it hadn’t helped that the apocalypse had decided to descend upon his Tuesday afternoon either, at around three o’clock, just after his lunch break. Damn, if he had known, Paul thought to himself, then he could have nipped home and changed into a comfy pair of shorts. Something just nice, durable, with at least a little bit of style. His professional career had taught him to always be styled for any situation.

Instead, he was now left trudging along this deserted, bomb-scarred wasteland beneath the beating sun, sweat clinging to the fabric of his stupid, black, tight-fitting, slim lined trousers. Maybe if he could just find a abandoned pair of scissors he could improvise…

Photo by Shamim Nakhaei on Unsplash


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