It's Gotta Be Jelly 'Cause Jam Don't Sting
I had waited for the better part of the year for this vacation. We had planned to spend our day on the beach in North Carolina. I wore a baggy pair of capri pants and a T-shirt.
I sat on the shoreline and let the waves wash around me. I was digging through the sand looking at shells when a jellyfish swam up my pants leg. Having a jellyfish in your pants is as exciting as it sounds. I had spent the better part of the morning rescuing tiny jellyfish from the sand with my shell basket and flinging them back into the ocean. I naively felt that perhaps we had an understanding; I would save their lives and in return they would stay out of my pants.
This particular jellyfish was every bit as frantic to get out of my pants as I was to have him leave.
I learned something on this day. No matter what preconceived notions you have on public nudity, when there is a jellyfish in your pants modesty takes a backseat. I ran toward the beach, tearing at my drawstring waist. I was about to traumatize my family and others as I introduced my pasty white backside to the sunlight, but Phillip was making his way a bit further north than I was comfortable with for a first date.
Yes, I named the jellyfish “Phillip”. If he is going to spend that much time in my pants, we should be on a first name basis. My daughter started running away from me. She later claimed she thought I was running from danger and thought she should flee. At the time, I assumed once she saw I intended to remove my clothing she no longer wanted to be associated with me. I didn’t have to remove my pants. Philip got in a final sting before making his exit out the same pants leg he had entered. It was of course the money shot. There I was holding my crotch like Michael Jackson bellowing out “whoo-hoo.”
My husband yelled over to ask if I was okay. My daughter, who was standing far enough away to be mistaken for a stranger, answered him.
“Thumbs Down!” she yelled producing the corresponding hand gesture. I too would give my jellyfish experience a thumbs down; zero stars, I would not recommend.
April Allen is an Appalachian writer with bad knees and a warped sense of humor. She currently works as an engineer for a major telcom. https://aprilsallen.wordpress.com
See more of April's work in 13.3