The late Mitch Hedberg said "this jacket is dry clean only... so it's dirty." Yeah, that about sums it up. Only manage to haul the cleaning in once every six months or so. Anyway, carted in the semiannual batch and, whilst happily traipsing along with suits slung o'er mah shoulder, a pair of pants slid off the hanger and fell on the ground. Yup. That's right. I dropped my pants in the street. Didn't even notice.
Picked up the dry cleaning a week later. Upon arriving home, noticed this alarming state of pantslessness. Ran back to speak to the dry cleaner, only to realize what had occurred. Checked the receipts, and the trousers were never checked in. Brought so many pieces, didn't even notice. Crapital.
Now, walking around the neighborhood, every pair of gray trousers catches my eye: on businessmen, on homeless guys, on dogs... you name it. Oh, the vexation. Fully prepared to offer a handsome bounty if they turn up on a homeless man's cart. No joke.
