A Mean Pair Of Jeans
A season of surfing on the North Shore of the Hawaiian island had been the best indulgence ever. But when the idea of a night out on the town came up, Will and Ted jumped at it. They chugged off in their brown 1972 Toyota Corolla and all Will could think about was how his only pair of jeans had wasted away. He intended to lash out on a new pair from the shopping centre at their destination.
They parked the car by the beach and Ted left him to it. Shopping centres were his nemesis so a swim at the beach seemed much better therapy. Two hours later, with the sun beginning to set, Will emerged from the shopping centre sporting his new purchase. The jeans fitted him a treat.
“I’ll be painting the town red with two brushes tonight,” Will proclaimed.
Ted just rolled his eyes as his friend checked himself out in the reflection of a nearby shop window.
They left the car and made a mental note of its location. This was to be their accommodation for the night, unless a better offer eventuated. As the evening rolled on in a sea of cheap American beer and laughter, the two settled in to a late night club. Will tore up the dance floor in his new jeans, which gave him an increased air of confidence. A healthy looking barmaid was giving him some extra attention as she continued to serve their drinks.
“You’re coming back to my place after I finish work,” The sexy barmaid instructed, thrusting her ample bosom into Will’s face. “And I think it will take me about three seconds to whip those jeans off and have my way with you.”
Will almost bit the rim off his glass of beer.
By this time Ted had hit the wall so he decided to part ways with his offsider and crash out in the car.
“Remember where the car is Will. I’ll meet you there when you come back down to Earth,” Ted yelled on departure.
When the club closed, the barmaid latched onto Will like a mollusc to a rock. The extra wiggle in her walk was matched by the giggle in her talk as she led him back to her abode for a nightcap.
Unfortunately, on arrival at the apartment, the two were greeted by a disgruntled ex-boyfriend lurking in the shadows. He was built like a brick outhouse and the sight of his ex- lover with Will sent him into a fury. Poor Will didn’t stick around to talk things through. He bolted for his life as the sun began to trickle through the Waikiki skyline.
The sudden rush of adrenalin mixed with a number of drinks had left Will totally disorientated. He searched high and low but could not find the car. He paced along the beachfront where he thought Ted had parked but he had no luck.
By mid morning the sun was in full swing. The thirty-five degree temperature had worn out the novelty of his new jeans, turning them into a mobile sauna as he continued to search for his mate and the car.
Meanwhile, Ted was puzzled by his friend’s no-show. He just put it down to good luck on Will’s behalf. Ted hung around at the meeting spot as long as he could but eventually at noon he made the bold decision to head back to the North Shore of the island, alone.
Eventually Will gave up on finding the parked car. With his last five dollars he jumped onto the cross-island bus, not a happy camper. He settled in for the two-hour trip as his streak of bad luck intensified. The air-conditioning on the bus gave up the ghost and Will spent the next hour sweating out three litres of bodily fluids.
As the evening set in, Will finally dragged himself off the bus and wearily trudged the last few hundred metres. He stumbled home to find Ted sipping a cool beer on the deck. He was too exhausted to blow up at his friend for leaving him to die. Instead, Will stripped off his new jeans and threw the offending strides straight into the bin. His faithful pair of board shorts never felt better as he lamented his terrible day brought about by those mean jeans.