Verse 3: Overalls

Hello everyone.  I would first like to express my deep love for my fellow Religion writers.  We all have an abundant amount of wonderful stories to tell, filled with incredible wisdom, mind-boggling bravery, and steamy sexual undertones.  Just you wait…

While contemplating what my first addition to The New (Pre-Terminus) Testament would be about, I couldn’t decide as I had numerous ideas.  Should I talk about the first night I spent with Jesus?  No.  Too long.  Perhaps the time I convinced “that other Mary” to take her clothes off while on webcam?  No.  I would not want to make people feel the urge to purge.  And then it struck me like a dead baby being thrown against a brick wall:  I shall enlighten everyone with the tale of The Overalls.

It was a tragic day.  A tragic day in Mrs. Odeski’s second grade classroom.  I must have been feeling quite adventurous that day, for I decided to wear denim overalls (girls denim overalls I might add…keep in mind that they had no zipper in the front).  While listening to the grouchy teacher read aloud a presumably sappy, unrealistic story about a boy who becomes best friends with his heroic dog, I suddenly felt a familiar feeling in my pants.  No I was not getting excited- I was eight years after all.  I had to piddle.  

Upon reaching and surveying the insane asylum-esque restroom, I was forced to come to terms with my reality:  I could not use the toilets as they were clogged with the excrements of slobbish elementary school boys and I could not use the stalls as I was wearing The Overalls with no zipper in the front.  Unless I wanted an unassuming passerby to see my rather plump rump as I relieved myself, this was not an option.  I meekly tiptoed back to Mrs. Odeski’s classroom, trying desperately not to release my bodily fluids on the hallway floors.  

With a flushed face, I sat back down on the ground and listened to the teacher’sKreacher-like voice.  No more than a minute passed before I could not take the “pressure” anymore.  Hearing the angels singing as I peed and felt the warm sensation run down my legs, I knew I would be pegged as “The Boy Who Peed”, not “The Boy Who Lived” as I most forlornly fancied.

And that, my children, is why overalls should never be a choice of clothing for anyone.  Ever.