Rod checks out his new pants in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. They couldn’t be any tighter. He can plainly see the outline of his keys in his pocket and, more importantly, the outline of his cock. “That looks good,” he thinks. “No lady can resist a dick like that.” He does a couple of knee bends to see if he’ll be able to dance effectively at the bar tonight. He turns around to check and make sure his ass looks nice. While looking at his ass, he also makes sure his glistening perm is holding up. Maybe he’ll have to visit the stylist at the end of the week.
He walks out of the house, enjoying the way his Camaro looks parked in the driveway. He’s been thinking about painting flames on it. The afternoon sun casts long shadows. “Just a few things to do and then I’ll be dancing.” When he gets out to his car he tries desperately to pull the keys from his pocket, but he can’t quite get them out. “Fuck it,” he grunts beneath his mustache. With his hand half-stuck in his pocket, he begins hopping up and down, hoping to loose the keys that way. On his last descent, the heel of his cowboy boot comes down crooked and he goes sprawling into the sidewalk. He growls and rolls around on the ground and tries to stand up. It is a lost cause. The pants are just too tight. “This is fuckin’ embarrassing,” he thinks.
Two of the neighbors come by. He knew someone would see him.
“Hey there, Rod,” the man says. “You mean to be down there on the ground like that?”
“I’m all right,” Rod says. “Just down here checkin’ out the bottom of the Camaro.”
“You’re a good two feet from the car,” the woman says. “Are you injured?” Rod can feel the nasty scrape on his head.
“I’m fine,” he barks.
“Let me give you a hand.” The man thrusts his arm toward Rod.
Reluctantly, Rod takes hold and lets the man hoist him up. “Thanks,” he says, sheepishly bowing his head.
The man leans into Rod, “Just between you and me, you might wanna wear some pants that aren’t so, you know, tight.”
Rod turns without saying a word. He just wants to go back into his house and cut the pants off. As he’s walking away, Rod hears the man say, “That guy thinks he’s Lionel Richie or somethin’.”
This makes Rod mad but he realizes he wouldn’t be able to pick a fight with this guy. He might fall down.
“There will be another day,” Rod thinks.
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