Dear Girl In Giant Pants I Saw Fall Down In The Middle Of The Sidewalk While You Were Walking With Your Boyfriend

Word Count – 500

Thank you for making my day just a little more special.

I was in a bit of a bad mood as I was trailing you two down the sidewalk. A little worried about finances, politics, women. General malaise, I guess you could say. Then I saw you, in your tank top and parachute panted glory, fall down in the middle of the street. Hard. You were holding hands with your boyfriend, who was not paying attention and did not catch you. He did not even make an attempt to catch you, as a matter of fact. He was busy staring at a poster taped to a pole for a concert that happened four weeks ago.

I was watching the entire time, but was too far away to have provided any assistance. I walked past you both and attempted eye contact to see if you were alright, but quickly looked away once I heard you two ‘talking’ to each other. You both made a series of¬†groaning noises to signify that the afternoon walk would be temporarily delayed. Instead of moving aside and seeking refuge, you both sat in the middle of the sidewalk and waited out the pain. Your boyfriend actually poked your shoulder to see if it would hurt. Based on your reaction, I assume it did.¬†As he helped you up, neither of you said anything that could be construed as english, but the general attitude from both of you was one of confusion and annoyance. He, for not understanding why the walk suddenly had to interrupted, and you, wondering why your arm, the one he was still holding, suddenly hurt so much for some reason.

In a perfect world, I would like to imagine that neither of you were drunk or high. I would truly love it if you two were merely stricken dumb for your love of one and other, and now require constant supervision from the other in order to survive. Perhaps his less than speedy reaction was attributed to an incident I had not witnessed, such as him walking into a mailbox up the street that you failed to warn him was quickly approaching. I hope this fantasy reality I have created gives you some solace as you continue to shamble your way around this big, crazy world.

One small word of advice before I go. You’re five foot nothing and wearing sandals, do you really think you should be wearing size 62 length pants? They had to have been at least two inches longer than you were from head to toe. May I suggest some casual capri’s, or perhaps a modest seasonal skirt? Unless of course you were on your way to a belated fourth of July celebration (in Canada), and were just about to pick up your stilts and fake beard to complete your Female Uncle Sam Meth Addict uniform, in which case, pay no mind to this comment. I’m apparently just talking out my ass.

– J.D. Renaud

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