WEIRD & WONKY WORLD WRITING CHALLENGE

If the Pants Fit

         Millicent tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear and stepped out onto the porch. Intent upon locking the front door she shrieked when a familiar voice like nails on a blackboard caused her to shudder.

         "What in God's green earth are you wearing?"

         Straightening her shoulders and turning to confront her twin sister ensconced upon a cushioned lounger, Millicent batted at the cigarette smoke tendrils hungrily reaching for her.

         "As I informed you at dinner I'm meeting the Garden Society Ladies. We have flower beds to turn and weeds to pull."

         "Well, you certainly won't be turning any heads of the male persuasion in that lame get up. With that rather pronounced moustache and those dungarees you resemble the handy man, what's-his-name."

          Without bidding a hand hovered over her mouth and Millicent tugged at the straps of her denim coveralls.

         Count to ten and breathe. She's just trying to get a rise from you. Don't take the bait. Try a diversion.

         "I could ask you the same question. I passed on the invitation for today's activity. You call what you're traipsing around in pants? Did you fall into a bolt of fabric?"

         Merrilee yawned and stretched as she rose to her feet. With one hand on her hip she minced forward and twirled.

         "What would you know about fashion? I'll have you know these pantalons are considered haute couture. Only the creme de la creme permit themselves to wear them. Anyone who is anyone embraces white in the summertime. I catch the cooling breeze."

         "Why of course you do dear. You're draped in a set of sails. One good gust and you'll be disappearing into the horizon. I half expect someone to holler lower the main sail, or batten the hatches. You forgot the hat though."

         With her arms crossed and a glare that could freeze most everyone, Merrilee growled. "What are you talking about?"

         "I don't see your pirate hat. Oh, and I believe you could pull off an eye patch."

         Millicent plopped her weather beaten straw sombrero on her head and began to descend the steps.

         She hollered over her shoulder. "Are you coming? Perhaps you could try out for the scarecrow. You've got the fluttery appearance down pat."

         "Okay, give me a minute to change. I didn't realize gardening was so casual."

         Casual? The Garden Society Ladies do not loll about on a yacht, or perch poolside on striped cabana chairs.Feeling the heat of annoyance only her twin sister could fan, Millicent paced and fumed.

         "Are you going to claim these are the wrong pants, too?"

         The voluminous drapery had been replaced by skin-tight black leather that creaked and creased as Merrilee so much as inhaled.

         "What? Bikers wear this and it's supposed to be rugged. If you expect me to get my hands dirty I require tough gear. I most likely will contribute in a supervisory position anyway. Can I put my lipstick and my ciggies in your pockets?"

         Millicent could only nod her head.

         Why am I surprised? How could we be related let alone twins?

         She tried not to titter, or smirk as Merrilee hobbled to the car. Her sibling's first attempts to sit failed. Despite the grimaces and the holding of breath Merrilee could not bend. Her lower body was swathed in a stylish tourniquet. At one point she approached the front seat by backing up to it and executing a slow drop. Her rear end connected with the car's seat, but her legs stayed in a rigid straight line exterior to the vehicle.

         With a mighty exaggerated sigh, Millicent reached for Merrilee's hands and hoisted her to her feet. In a swift motion she pushed her sister towards the house.

         "Go on, the third time's the charm. Think practical, yet comfortable."

         Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, Millicent once again awaited her sister's return. When she saw her strutting towards the car, she gasped. Sputtering, she rose too quickly and struck her head.

         "Those particular pants look familiar. Where did you find them?"

         Merrilee grinned. "They should be. I discovered these hideous pants in your closet. You don't mind, do you?"

         

         "Did you perhaps not hear me? I said practical. Those are my dress slacks. They are most definitely not intended for gardening. Did you not think to ask me?"

         "These old things are for dress-up? Really? Polyester ? Oh, Millicent. They are too ugly to wear out and about in public. Personally, I believe a grass stain or two could improve their looks. Stop fussing. I'll treat you to a new pair of real pants befitting my sister. Are we going, or what?"

         Muttering to herself, Millicent jabbed the key into the ignition and slammed her car into gear.

         "Did you think to grab a hat while you were in there?"

         "Excuse me? When have you ever known me to don a hat? I didn't sit and bake for two hours in a beauty shop chair to mess up this perfection, this divine coiffure with a hat. Wait, are you speaking metaphorically? Do you mean a feather in my cap, or heaven forbid a bee in my bonnet?"

         I must be certifiable. Yep, that was it. I'm crazy. More than an egg separated all those years ago. Was there a kink in the umbilical cord? Had Merrilee received too little, or too much oxygen? Had Maman been a closet drinker? Ack!

         "So, explain it to me again. You may not have noticed, but I've never gardened before. That's what it's called, right? Will I be expected to sit down in the dirt? There won't actually be mud, will there? Oh, I get it now. Mudder. Haha."

         Millicent grinned. Maybe the sacrifice of her best pants would be worth it. The opportunity could not be ignored.

         "Well, sister dear. Since you'll be flying by the seat of your pants so to speak, I feel I should warn you. Oh, yes, there will be mud. Mud attracts all manner of creatures, or more precisely creepy crawlies."

         Woohoo! Did she just gulp? Is that panic in her eyes?

         "What kind of a poor excuse for a sister would I be if I failed to prepare you? I'm telling you now. There will be worms. They wriggle out of the mud and they are everywhere. Oh, and I can't forget the beetles. They skitter all over our shoes and pant legs. Then there are the ants. They sure know how to scurry here and there."

         Millicent snuck a peek at her passenger. Merrilee seemed to be rendered speechless and she clutched the knife-edge pleat of the pants she had purloined.

         "I have a solution. It's not pretty, but gardening seldom is. In the glove box you'll find a few pieces of twine. I suggest you tie them around your pant cuffs. That should keep the bugs out of your business."

         Millicent coughed to disguise her chuckle as Merrilee wasted no time following her solicitous sister's directions. At the community garden she recognized the photographer from the local newspaper. Good, this moment would be preserved for posterity.          1184 words          National Wrong Pants Day