The Flaming Pants
July 17th, 1999: I came across a pair of flaming pants today as I was walking in Capitol Hill. I had just ducked down a narrow tree-lined street, trying to keep under cover from the drizzle, and came upon them where they lay smoldering on the sidewalk in the shelter of an overhanging bough. I came to a halt and stood there, considering the implications. How had they gotten there? Had somebody removed his pants upon noticing that they were on fire and then abandoned them? Was it spontaneous combustion? An omen? Some kind of cult thing? My mind sifted through the possibilities.
While I was standing there the mailman walked up and stopped just opposite me. He was wearing the hot-weather outfits they have with the blue shorts and knee-socks, plus a little pith helmet to keep the rain off, and he was holding a bundle of letters in his hand. We both stood there, watching it burn down.
"They were like that when I first walked by five minutes ago." he remarked.
"You know there's got to be a story behind this." I said.
He nodded and stroked his mustache thoughtfully, looking down all the while at the enigmatic trousers. It was one of those times when life presents you with an effect with no discernible cause, and you just have to accept that no explanation is available or ever will be. People will tell you that all the mystery is gone from modern life, but from now on when I hear that I'll just picture those pants, those flaming pants.
For
Booking & Info. Contact Rick Miller at (206) 329-3444 or by sending
email to flamingbanjo@hotmail.com.
CLICK HERE to email Rick Miller
