Never Buy Cheap Pants
Never buy cheap pants. Really. The pricey, arm-and-leg, glittery pants you see in high fashion stores in Neopia Central are completely worth it. The hours of slaving to make Neopoints, the trips to expensive stores, the long lines -- all will benefit you magnificently in the end. Don't agree? Hopefully, after reading my sorry tale, you'll be a costly fashionista that bewares cheap clothing. I know I am! I'll make a believer out of you with this story -- the story of the most embarrassing day of my life!
It was a good day, one of those pleasant days of weather transition where it wasn't quite springtime, but winter's ice was far behind -- we lived on Roo Island at the time, so the temperature change was exhilarating. The day prior, my usually stingy owner and myself had made an impromptu trip to the local clothing store and bought a new pair of cute pants – tan-colored slacks with a pink flower on the right front pocket -- hey, I was a naive young little Acara! Don't knock my style. They were really a bargain - an over-bargain, practically free. The saleslady rang them up to a mere 6 neopoints - how fabulous, right? I was excited beyond belief and wore them that fateful school day like I had so determinedly planned at the checkout.
The first clue about the massive hole that had mysteriously been torn in the pants should have been when my brother tried to tell me something when everyone was clambering off to school. When I was gracefully - or so I thought myself to be - exiting the house, he shouted my name and I whirled around, surprised.
"You can't wear those pants to school -- people are gonna laugh at you!" he said loudly, waving his hands wildly. He actually looked concerned.
"What-EVER. Like you know anything about fashion. Never talk to me again, dummy!" I replied breezily, sticking my tongue out at him and striding away. I wasn't going to fall for his mean trick.
I thought I looked great in my cool new pants - my brother didn't know anything about anything, least of all fashion. I was going to be the envy of the school, a beauty rivaled by none. He snorted and turned away, muttering irritatedly and rolling his eyes. I smiled, feeling triumphant, and went on my way. Oh, if only I had listened and hadn't assumed!
The day pre-pants-induced horror turned out to be pretty spectacular; everyone was in good cheer and the day seemed promising. I was flying through my classes with good grades and gold star stickers out the whazoo. My ever-fashionable lunchtime friends, strangely enough, avoided the topic of fashion at lunch, which puzzled me greatly but invoked ease because fashion was my weak point. The only sour moment was when a notorious bully named Leslie slithered up to our table, tailed by her clan of shallow friends.
"Heyyy, I really like your totally... cute pantsss," she hissed meanly.
I rolled my eyes and ignored her. I know, I know. It seemed like a nice compliment at first, but then she followed it up with a burst of cold, mocking laughter and I knew she was just being mean and trying to hurt my feelings. I turned away, feeling like the bigger, stronger person, and ignored her. She slithered away with her gaggle of cohorts, hissing and insulting another classmate. My friends assured me Leslie was just being mean and my pants were adorable. They all then tried to smother their giggles, which baffled me, but I assumed they were just laughing at silly Leslie. I joined in, unwitting. How wrong I was...
In the final hour of the school day, the second big indication of the embarrassing hole arrived. My teacher pulled me to the side and quietly asked if I would like to pay a visit to the school nurse to fix my 'wardrobe malfunction'. I just squinted at him, totally confused, and told him I was not particularly keen on the idea of missing class to go to the nurse. I didn't comprehend what he really meant; I thought he just wanted me out of class for some unknown reason. He shrugged and let it go, telling me to sit down and do my work. I returned to my madly giggling friends and re-joined the conversation, totally oblivious. As it turns out, ignorance really, really IS bliss.
After school, my best pal and her owner picked me up on their bikes rather than let me walk home. I rode in the basket because I was a small youngster and didn't weigh very much. On the ride to their Neohome a few blocks away from the school, we swung by my own neohome to drop off my backpack so the basket wouldn't be under more strain than usual. I dashed inside and carelessly tossed the bag on the floor, kissed my cute little Poppit petpet on the head, and grabbed some delicious Pumpkin Pasties for the ride. When I got back in the basket, my friend and her owner had the oddest expressions – enchanting open-mouthed looks of surprise twisted with amusement.
“What?” came the inevitable question. I had been so confused the whole day, and a trickle of frustration was starting to build up inside me.
“You have this humongous hole in the back of your pants." They burst into laughter and my friend fell off her bike, wheezily gasping for air between peals of laughter. They started to apologize, but told me it was just so darn funny they couldn't help themselves. Yeah, real funny. Super hilarious. Glad I could make them laugh at my expense, what I TOTALLY loved to do.
My face began to burn under my blue fur and a quiet moan of horror slipped out of my mouth. Had I had the embarrassing rip the entire day? I recollected the whole day in lightning speed -- my brother, lunchtime, the little chuckles and chortles that filled the air whenever I walked by, the teacher -- the teacher, the most blatant of all the signs! My ears burned something mighty from embarrassment at not only the pants, but my own stupid obliviousness. I felt like a fool. A horribly dumb and silly fool with a big rip in her 'bargain-price' pants. I dashed into the neohome and changed into a rather hideous, but rip-less pair of shorts, checking them over quite a few times before donning the checkered beasts.
They were super ugly, but better than the cheap, ripped pants that were now the worst thing I'd ever had the misfortune to buy.
The moral of the story is - well, there's actually a few! Number one -- always listen to your brother, even if he's usually annoying, because he just might have some important information. Number two -- always take your teacher's advice. It's probably right. Actually, teachers are always right, when you think about it. So you should already know that one, but reminders are always nice. And number three, the most important thing, the most outstanding moral, the greatest advice, the point of the tale -- NEVER EVER BUY CHEAP PANTS!