Even though it happened in a split second, some people still can’t look me square in the eye. I was helpless as all my defenses were striped from me, leaving a sincerely more tender and vulnerable side visible, despite my best efforts on covering that area up.

First you must realize that I’ve never been the most athletic student in the history of academia. In fact, I’m probably slower than an arthritic, one-hipped granny running the "longest yard" in slow motion. Soon that all changed and my world was pulled inside out as my gym shorts were pulled snuggly around my ankles. I had just been depants’d! While my trunks descended their rightful place, my egg shell white legs were left trembling and quivering, like a bull-legged calf in a slaughter house.

As I struggled to pick up my fallen dignity, I saw my school’s resident negligent Negro, Dave Nibbs, run pass me, his face beamed with a tremendous smile. I was taken aback that my friend, the black albino, would treat me like a dog, or a mule, or worse yet - a freshman. I muttered several strange and exotic curses to a multitude of bizarre, foreign gods. Then, I was empowered with the strength of five and a half slackers all focused on lynching my Afro-American Judas.

We ping-ponged around the gym for a good minute or so. At which time I heard my gym teacher, Mrs. Partain’s, sweet yet shrill voice take command of the situation - as I knew she would - and end this injust molestation of an innocent man’s privacy by saying, "Keep it up Dave. At least he’s running!"

Finally I cornered him in the lobby outside the gym. With a deranged look in my eyes, and a grainy, psychotic cackle, I slowly crept up on him like a hideous gargoyle. But after seeing him cower in the corner, and hearing his pathetic, "D-dude....friends?!?" I knew I wasn’t mad at him. As a matter of fact I was in love.

Currently, Dave and I are happily aquatinted with no tensions or hard feelings in sight. If anything I owe him for releasing me from the restraint of constricting garments and tight, bunching fabrics. He exposed my free wheelin’, scene stealin’, garb peelin’ side and let it lightly flap in the breeze. So I ask you what do you think, boxers or briefs?