*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2232239-Crazy-Pants
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Comedy · #2232239
A briefs encounter
Crazy Pants

The traveling salesman was caught by an unexpected storm and found himself plowing snow with his front bumper halfway between two small towns. He decided that it would be wiser to get off the road, so he turned into a likely looking farmyard and knocked on the door.

“The snow is really piling up out there, could I spend the night? I’d be happy to pay for a bed.”

“Well, I wouldn’t feel right about chargin’ a fella in a tight spot. Besides, we ain’t got a spare bed. You’ll have to bunk in with my drunken son. He ain’t here right now, but he’ll be staggerin’ in later when the bars close down.”

“That’s alright, I’m just happy to be under a roof on a night like this.”

The salesman went up to bed and slept for a couple of hours when, sure enough, the farmer's son came stumbling in and woke him up. The young man barely got his shoes and pants off before crawling into the big four-poster bed. In his drunken state he didn’t even notice the salesman, who had moved over to the far edge of the bed.

The farmer's son was immediately dead to the world, but the salesman found himself unable to sleep. His stomach didn’t feel quite right and he realized that he was going to have to get up and take a dump. The night was cold, the farmhouse didn’t have indoor plumbing, and the salesman was in a bind.

Then he had a brilliant idea, why not just do it in the drunken son’s pants? There’d be no need to go outside and the farmer’s son wouldn’t remember anything. He’d just think that he’d drunkenly shit his own pants. So that’s how it worked out, and the salesman went on his way early the next morning, following a snowplow down the road. The farmer’s son didn’t wake until long after the salesman had gone.

A few months went by and the salesman found himself between the same small towns. It was getting late, but he remembered the farmer’s hospitality and decided to stop there again. He knocked at the same door and made the same request, but this time the response was a bit different.

“Well, we can put you up for the night, but you’ll have to bunk in with my crazy son.”

“Crazy? I was here a few months ago and you said he was a drunk?”

“Yep, it was about that same time. Poor kid went crazy tryin’ to figger how he could shit his pants without soilin’ his shorts!”


Author's note:
© Copyright 2020 Words Whirling 'Round (tgifisher77 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2232239-Crazy-Pants