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CHAPTER ONE
What in the fresh hell is this?
I mean seriously.
What. The. Bloody. Fuck?
This has to be someone’s idea of a joke. A really fucking bad one.
Surely no one actually expects me to wear this…Right?Maybe the real costume is somewhere underneath what looks like tiny blue sailor shorts.
Nope.
Nothing.
Nada.
Zilch.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, they are, in fact, tiny blue sailor shorts; a perfect match to the navy shirt with white stripes around the edges, and a red ascot hanging around the neck.
There’s even a white sailor hat with the word ‘Ahoy’ embroidered on the front that I can’t seem to look away from.
Trust me, I’m trying to look anywhere else, but my eyes keep coming back to it.
Who voluntarily wears something like this?
I can’t even imagine getting paid to put this on for a photo shoot.
And there’s nothing else under this… this… atrocity.
I’ve looked three times.
Okay, seriously, one of these fuckers is messing with me, because I know for a fact I wasnotin charge of ordering the costumes.
However, I was drinking when we picked our outfits for this charity thing tonight, but there’s no way I wasthatwasted. I remember looking online at a few different sites, but I don’t remember looking at anything that even remotely resembles…
Shit.
I’m not even sure what this is.
A boat captain with terrible fashion sense?
A navy guy who likes to make people uncomfortable with all the leg he shows?
Is there a bloke who dressed like this in the Village People?
I distinctly remember telling the guys to get me something manly.
This is not manly.
Those motherfuckers.
They’re dead. They’re deader than dead.
But before I can rip up the small shorts and set them on fire, there’s a knock at my door.
It had better be someone with a more suitable option for tonight, because there is no bloody way in hell I’m wearing this.
