Los Pantalones de Señor Bradley Crawford

One: The Suit Pants

*annoyed sigh.*

My name... Well, I don't have a name. But I belong to Brad Crawford. NO, I'm not a pair of BOXERS or whitey tighties or something obnoxious and hentai like that. I'm just his pants. Yes, ordinary every day PANTS. And it's starting to get annoyingly repetitive about the lack of care I'm getting!

I mean, come on. Today he just threw me on the floor again. I chatted with Schuldich's pants for a while. Like, four hours. They took a hell of a long time wrestling and sleeping or whatever. Schuldich's pants couldn't stop complaining about its wrinkles and the constant stainage.

Oh, pssshhhh. I haven't been ironed in three days! Sure, washed. But ironed, no! Brad Crawford has completely been forgetting to iron ME! And I'm important! Oh, but he irons that dumb suit jacket. He hangs the suit jacket up and then just throws ME on the floor.

That insensitive bastard!!

Anyway, after I tuned out of Schuldich's pants's whining (which seemingly went on for EVER) I finally got off the floor again. Crawford walks a lot, you know? Pacing, tapping feet, taking long walks. Hell, what's next, skipping through a field of daises? ...Isn't Crawford allergic to daisies? Eh...

Today's walk was incredibly annoying. Crawford decided to walk with *Schuldich* and they had their arms around each other's waists and y'know what that means? Constant bumping and talking to those annoying redhead's PANTS.

Whine, whine whine! I was going to commit suicide at this rate. ...How does a pair of pants kill oneself? I know the meaning of life, but I don't know how to kill myself. Well that's STUPID.

Sooo while I was contemplating suicide we all ended up in some field. I was right. x_@ At least they didn't skip. Just sat down next to a tree and y'know what happened?

That bastard redhead ripped me off.

I'm gonna get even. I'm gonna... ...Talk to the moths about this one!! Don't ask how a pair of pants can talk to moths. That's a secret, along with the meaning of life.

I still want to know how to kill a pair of pants. Maybe I could kill this pair of Schuldich's. So WHINY. Six grass stains and one incredibly wrong-looking stain which I'm SURE will never come out later we went home and I had to wash with the redhead's most annoying pair of pants.

At least I'm not in the same drawer. T_T