Mr. Skinny Pants

After one of those days where anything that could go wrong did, I headed to the house. It was terrifically humid and blazingly sunny, with an odd breeze. I walked at my usual steady clip while thinking of nothing in particular. I was in my own little world.

About half way through my little journey, the weirdest thing happened. I have sad many times that the stranger the occurrence, the more the universe is inclined to make me a witness.

To my left were large older city clapboard houses. Most of them have lost almost all of their charm from a hundred years ago. Staring straight ahead, I heard a heavy door swing open, and what sounded like a child's heavy landings on steps. I didn't turn. "Hey there, Mr. Skinny Pants," a child's voice demanded. I still walked swiftly without turning around. I heard it again, this time while running behind me. I looked across the street and about for this skinny pants fellow. No one filling that description... I looked over my shoulder, and there was a girl of roughly six or seven years. She stopped in her tracks and pointed up at me, with a half smile and cutest pigtails secured with pink barrettes. "You, I mean you! Where you goin', Mr. Skinny Pants, where you goin'?"

I didn't know what to say. Mr. Skinny Pants? I stared at her for a couple seconds. She was still pointing with her right hand on her hip. "Well, Mr. Skinny Pants? No answer, huh"? I must have looked frightened, because I was a little. I turned and hurried across the busy intersection. I didn't look back.