Lumps in his Pants!

Pin It Now! Yesh thought he dirtied his pants one scary morning! It went like this. Last Thursday, the subject of our story, walks into my room.

“Machaa! Today a weird thing happened. I thought I shat in my pants!”

Oh yes! Some fun at last. Let’s hear it! Apparently our man left home as usual on Thursday morning on his Hero Honda Street. Now, ‘home’ is somewhere beyond Porur where Gent has told me they speak a different tongue and have their own national flag even. So the boy is on his Street, riding happily, when he enters the crossroads at Porur. Omigawd! He wasn’t sure. But… Omigawd!

What was the lumpy thing in the seat of his pants? He did hit the potty in the morning didn’t he? That thought wasn’t comforting enough because he still felt lumpy. Shit! So he shifted carefully in his seat. Lumpy again. He lifted one cheek off the seat. Did something squish? Did he feel wet and pasty? He wasn’t sure. The damn bus in front of him was hogging the road and horns blaring behind.

So he cut left to ride parallel to the bus. He only had to ride with the flow now, which brought him back to his… “Shit…I’ll have to ride back to change”. He had to make sure before he decided to risk being horribly late for office. So he sent a swift probe. He surreptitiously dug his left hand under his seat from between his legs. But he had to pull it out quicker than he expected because he’d been spotted in the sneak act by a bunch of giggling girls and aunties who were getting a ringside view from the bus alongside.

He shot forward in panic. What! Giggling girls already! What might await him in office then? He had to be business-like now, come what may. He shot forward steadily and then it hit him. “Why not?” He screeched to a stop at the next wafer place. Chennai is famous for all these wafer places; they come under every name suffixed with ‘Chips’. This one was Chennai Chips AC (air-conditioned, mind you).

The aisles there were narrow which meant he’d be almost rubbing shoulders with people in there. And the air-conditioned atmosphere would be unforgiving in its judgment. Any telltale signs and he could scoot out and kick his Street back home. Brilliant! He sent up a swift prayer to the Lord and swung open the glass door with a confidence he didn’t have at the moment. The girl at the counter smiled at him. But was that a smile or smirk? He had butterflies in his stomach again.

Thinking quickly on his feet, he turned his derriere ever so slowly towards the girl. A ballerina couldn’t have done better. No. The girl hadn't winced. Whoopee! He wasn’t sporting a wet spot in the seat of his pants. He had to be doubly sure though. He brushed past a couple of people and then stopped to supposedly examine the chips on display while he furtively searched faces for horrified signs of disgust and crumpled noses. No. NO! He hadn’t shat in his pants after all!

Later in the day, people were heard talking about a boy who went pushing his bike a good distance, merrily wagging his rump at everyone, before he got tired and rode off into the morning! Pin It Now!