This story told in honor of Adam Brecher and Steve Davolt:
So, last night I had a few people over for pancakes, because it was Shrove Tuesday, and that's what I do. People had a good but not raucous time; there have been Shrove Tuesdays, for example, that involved my guests belly-dancing. That did not happen this year. There was a mix of kids and adults, and many of the adults had a beer or two, but no one got too crazy, because it was a Tuesday night and we're getting older. It was really a very nice time.
But the line of the evening came as my last two guests were getting ready to go. One of my favorite former campers from Cabin 11 got to the entryway and said:
"Wait, what's this? Why are there tiny pants on my shoes?"
I do not at all know the answer to that question, but the tiny pants in question are now in my office.
If they are yours, you may claim them privately, or you may admit to having depantsed at a pancake supper in the comments.
I swear, I only had one drink. I do not know how someone was pantsless at my house and I did not notice it.