It has never failed to amaze me what can be found in the pockets of little boys pants.
At the conclusion of a family outing in the mountains of northern Utah we returned home to unpack and return to normal. I took all the sleeping bags tents and other supply and packed them away for the next trip. All the dirty cloths, dishes and house hold items were taken inside and placed out of the way until the time when I would have enough energy to take care of the mess.
After two days of putting the laundry on hold I couldn't take it any longer. When I opened the door to the laundry room I was overcome with an odor that to this day can't be described. I could smell the smoke from the camp fire, and the slight odor of fish from the kids wiping their hands on their pants. But there was something different, something more offensive then anything I have ever smelled before. As I went through the laundry and moved things around it got stronger, I came across a pair of my youngest boy's jeans and was set back even more then when I first opened the door. I found it. The source of the smell. Now all I have to decide is whether or not it is worth checking the pockets. I thought about just throwing the pants away without looking, and in hind sight that would have been the thing to do, however, my curiosity got the best of me, I had to look. As I stuck my hand slowly in the first pocket I felt something cold, damp and somewhat stiff, I thought it might be a short piece of cord or rope. As I pulled it out I jumped back and dropped a dead eight inch long snake on the floor, a snake, one of my biggest fears. At this point I thought to my self, do you really want to even look in the other pocket, but again, I couldn't resist the temptation. I again slowly slid my hand in the pocket, didn't feel anything at first but the smell got stronger. I closed my eyes, held my breath and slid my hand further in. Before I could stop myself I found my hand in a slimy goo that made me shutter before I even pulled my hand out. I wondered for a short time if it was worth taking my hand out or just leave it till people started to ask questions, but I did it. I pulled it out and found that I had stuck my hand in a pocket full of dead half decade pollywogs.
Needless to say after all that I went through, I threw the pants in the garbage.
© 2007 Albert Jensen - 6/19/07