( Friday, July 27, 2007 )

Someone Named...Kevin

Let me share with you a story.

There's this guy. We'll call him, say, Kevin. Kevin is running late for work one morning. He pulls into the parking lot about the time he should have been coming out of the change room. Rushing to get out of the car and into the building, Kevin shoves his phone, wallet, and keys into his rather loose fitting shorts (foreshadowing), grabs his backpack, his coffee, and his newspaper, and stumbles his way through the parking lot with his hands--and pockets--full.

As I...ahem, Kevin reaches the crosswalk leading to the entrance of his workplace, the big red hand warns him the light is about to change, anxious to release the long line of waiting cars to resume their journey down the road. Alas, it would also leave him stranded on the wrong side of the street, wasting precious minutes he hasn't the luxury of messing with. So, in a desperate, and what would prove to be an unwise choice, Kevin dashes across the street with only seconds to spare.

Unfortunately, while managing to beat the lights and thus save himself a harsh reprimand from his supervisor, Kevin failed to consider the physics involved in his sprint and the inevitable result of the equation Loose Shorts + Heavy Things In The Pockets + Bouncing Up and Down, Repeatedly & Quickly.

In a moment that will live on in infamy (at least for Kevin and the few drivers who were watching the spectacle), our beloved friend Kevin reached the other side of the street as the lights turned green, only to have his shorts fall to his feet and his coffee splash up into his face.


(On a happy note, however, Kevin did manage to get into the building and to his post without being seen. By anyone else, I mean.)

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh my!! I laughed till I cried - every time I think of it. Poor Kevin or Ky....The real question is: which was worse, the precious coffee in the face? or, the shorts on the ground?

Dad

1:06 AM  
Anonymous Kelsey said...

I would have paid big money to see that. Not that I have a particular wish to see you stripped of your trousers... It's just that, well, it doesn't seem right that your humiliation should have passed so smoothly, without an audience. Those sort of things happen to me a lot (nothing involving the loss of my clothing -- I'll give you one of my belts if you ever come to BC -- you'll find them to be rather useful devices) but there are always plenty of people around to point and laugh.

It's not fair, I tell you.

2:24 AM  

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