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Gray Pants

By Arik Cohen

The cashier worked at the Rawlins Botanical Gardens for five months, and in that five months she never saw a man as handsome as Gray Pants.

She was posted up at the gift shop when she peaked through the opening and saw the rugged specimen of masculinity stroll by in sharp gray pants. She wanted to talk to him, but she had no way of leaving her post and bringing up a conversation with him organically. She had to just wait, and hope.

Her patience and faith paid off when two hours later Gray Pants strolled back, probably just finishing the full tour of the gardens, and entered the gift shop. It was just the two of them, and her nerves forced her feet to tap the ground below the register.

He brought a bar of botanical-smelling soap to her. Asked for her advice on it. The conversation was very exciting for the cashier. Finally she made her move, and asked him if he lived in town. Yes, he did.

He answered every question she had.

No, he didn’t have a significant other. Yes, he was straight. Yes, he worked out a lot. No, his penis wasn't small.

They looked into each other's eyes, the cashier had one more question:

“Are you the Tortured Spirit of Orion? The ghastly soul that has been haunting my family lineage for three millenia?”

Yes, he was. He threw up his arms in frustration and told her she might have thwarted his plan, but he would one day successfully absorb the essence of her family.

He then vanished in a poof of angelic smoke.

Damn you, Tortured Spirit of Orion, she thought to herself, I'm never going to find a handsome boyfriend.

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About the Author

Illustrations by Scott Thiede