Friday, February 8, 2008

Fly Boy

Tim is pretty quiet, but we were at the local mall doing some quick shopping. Well. I was. Tim was sitting on the bench outside a store, watching people. Anyways, I walked out with a bag, and Mr. Quiet is grabbing my arm, hissing "Sit down, sit down! You've got to see this." He's laughing and trying to talk. "See what?" I said. Tim is not normally given to hysterics. He laughs and laughs, and finally chokes out, "You've got to see this guy's fly." Shocked, I said, "I am NOT looking at any guy's fly!", and I tried to pull away as Tim roared, "No, really, you've got to see this." People were starting to look.
I was mortified.
There was no further time to debate the issue, because at that point, a man came walking out of the store, hands in his jacket pockets, about 6 inches his shirt tail caught in his fly, and bobbing merrily along in front of him.
I am often embarrassed in public, and am usually very sympathetic about things like this. This was a local doctor. He's not mine. I'd've had to change. I could never have listened to his professional advice without that mental picture springing, unbidden, to my mind.
It would not matter if he was telling me I was terminal. I'd still be trying to stifle my giggles.
I am ashamed of this.


Mike said...

Now you've reminded me of the ruined sermon from a guest preacher in a black suit before whom we cringed every time he emphasized a point by raising his arms to reveal his contrasting white briefs. What a difficult but somehow rewarding service to sit through.

'I am ashamed of this.' As well you should be!

debby said...

Oh, Mike, as long as I'm confessing my shame, allow me to say that this event happened years ago. I happened to see the distinguished gentleman pumping gas today and immediately got a case of the giggles.


We once had a preacher who foamed at the mouth and sprayed spit when he preached his hellfire and damnation sermons. He went on, and on. It was so hot in the church that for the first time in my life, I fainted dead away. He thought that was God working in me. Twarn't.