Sagging
*Note: Mr. Freen’s opinions do not reflect the views of The Willow’s Grove Gazette*
What’s with these kids today?! For quite some time I’ve kept my trap shut, but after sitting down to a meal at Floyd’s Diner and having a pair of underbritches shoved in my face by a young whippersnapper wearing his pants down to nearly his knees, sporting a look the youngsters call ‘sagging’, I could no longer hold my tongue. Sure, it’s a fashion statement, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it! Not one bit! Nor do I feel I have to have it waved in my face when I’m trying to force down Floyd’s excuse for a hot meal. His food is bad enough to keep down on its own, but to have someone’s bottom and their checkered drawers waving around like some God-awful flag, it took all the strength I have left to keep that roast beef from flying out of my mouth and soiling this kid’s underwear.
Look, I’ve shared in the fads of my youth, wearing full length swimming attire, sitting on flagpoles, swallowing goldfish, but I never once flashed my drawers in someone’s face! Heck, the name of this fashion fad reminds me of what my skin does on a daily basis. If it wasn’t for my support garments, and please pardon my French, but this has to be said to make my point painfully clear, my nether regions would get a right, awful pinch every time I sat myself down to one of Floyd’s tasteless dishes.
So pull up your pants, youngsters! You may be trying to make a statement, but the only statement I see is that you bought pants that were too darn big and forgot to put yer dang belt on!
Stumble it!
