The Cheek Of It

‘I’m going to wear the non see-through shorts today’ Faye proudly announces early one morning.

‘Errr, mate. I hate to break it to you, but all of your shorts are now see-through.’

‘Are they?!’

‘Yep. But I’m delighted that I get a choice as to precisely which section of your crack I have the opportunity to stare at all day.’ I grin in reply.

Faye’s cycling attire, well the bottom half of it at least, has been in a state of degradation for over a month now. It began with just one pair, and in my role as chief (and only friend) in South America, I took it upon myself a few weeks back to break the news to her that I could see ‘The Great Divide’. I did think about delivering the news with a rendition of Mark Morrison’s lesser known ‘Return of the crack’, but instead opted for plain honesty, and said:

‘Mate. I can see your arse.’

Since that day, her other two pairs of black shorts have followed suit – seemingly taking permission from their now translucent counterpart to reveal a rump area of their choosing. One pair favours the right cheek. The other has worn one patch on either side of the Shepherd Canyon, and the original culprit has gone for a take-no-prisoners, down the middle approach. Things reached a glorious climax yesterday when Faye’s bum (presumably after years of Lycra oppression) finally broke free and formed an actual hole.

Faye, of course, finds this all rather embarrassing and apologises profusely each morning for the impending skin-show. I on the other hand find it rather funny. And naturally, I just turn the other… cheek.

One thought on “The Cheek Of It

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