Viva La Pantz 4

                                                          ¡Viva La Pantz! 4

                                                          By: M.R. Anglin

     “A pants thief?” Charles Dumaine III said.

     Max nodded as he walked down the street. “It’s become an epidemic. I have not personally been pantzed by him, but my wife has been lulled by his influence.” He shook his head. “I still don’t know how she managed to get my pants off without me realizing.”

     Charles scratched his hair. “I thought you were more alert than that.”

     Max glared at him. “Well, I wasn’t expecting my wife to steal my pants and run around the palace waving them about. Who could have seen that coming?”

     “I just don’t see how she could rip off your pants unless you were a willing participant,” Charles said.

     “You think I wanted to chase her around the palace in my underwear?” Max asked.

     Charles just shrugged. “I don’t need to know about your private life.”

     Max narrowed his eyes. “Just wait until someone steals your pants.”

     Charles chuckled. “That is not going to happen to me. I, for one, am—“

     A teenaged fox shoved past them. Trailing behind him was a line of fifty to sixty pairs of pants. “¡Viva la royal pantz!” He darted down the street, laughing.

     Max felt a breeze brush past his tail. “Not again!” He glanced at Charles. “Nice shorts.”

     “Well.” Charles looked first at Max’s boxers and then at his own. “Interesting.”

      Max whipped out his laser pistol and set it to stun. “This ends now.” He fired his gun.  

     The teenager lurched forward and fell to the ground.

     “Nice shot,” Charles said.

     Max smiled and walked down the street where the fox lay.

     “So this is the pants thief,” Charles said. “I should ask the Chameleon if he can use an extra hand. Someone who can steal pants off of people without them noticing can be an asset.”

     “In the meantime,” Max said, “I need to think of a punishment appropriate enough for this hooligan.”

     “Who do you suppose all these pants belong to?” Charles asked.

     Just then a wolf, dressed in a shirt and boxers, ran up to them. He stopped in front of Max and panted through his teeth. Behind him came a crowd of men.

     Max gazed at J.R. Dunsworth, the most notorious criminal in Drymairad. Then he glanced down at the wolf’s legs. “He got you too?”

     J.R. grunted turned to the unconscious teenager. “He caught me when I was napping. I’ve been chasing after him for a week straight . . . he’s a fast little sucker.”

     “You chased him for a week in your underwear?” Charles asked.

     J.R.’s ears flattened. “My rage has no logic.”

     Charles turned to the crowd. “Don’t tell me none of you thought of putting on pants before joining in on the chase.”

     “All I want is justice!” a member of the crowd said.

     “And my pants back!” said another.

     A roar of assent rose from the crowd.

     The teenager groaned and opened his eyes.  

     J.R. grinned. “Hello, Hunter.”

     Hunter looked at each of them and then grinned and lowered his ears. “’Sup? You’re not angry, right? All I did was bring peoples from different societies and walks of life together under a common banner. You all can’t fault a guy for that . . . right?”

     J.R. grinned and cracked his knuckles. “I can.”

     “And I’ve thought of the perfect punishment for you,” Max said.

     Hunter gulped and whimpered.

                                                                 ***

     “Justice is served.” J.R. looked up at the flag pole where they had stripped Hunter and strung him up by his underwear. “What a sweet thing.”

     Max raised an eyebrow and looked at J.R. It was strange to hear a criminal, of all people, saying that.

     J.R. waved a fist in the air. “What do you have to say now, punk?”

     Hunter cupped his hands around his mouth. “My blog got a million hits in one week. It was totally worth it!”

     J.R. threw his hands into the air. “I give up.” He turned and walked away.

     The crowd groaned and dispersed.

     “Youth today,” Charles said, shaking his head. “They just have no ambition.”

     Max opened his mouth to agree and then halted. “Why are you still in your underwear?”

     Charles looked down at his legs. “I don’t know; it’s kind of breezy.”

     Max shook his head and ran his hands over his ears. “I have to find some new friends.”  He shook his head and walked away.   
© 2008 M.R. Anglin. Do not copy or redistribute without author's expressed, written permission.