Buttons, Kiester, Mustard, Nylons

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Comedy of Errors (and bonus assignment!).” Murphy’s Law says, “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.” Write about a time everything did — fiction encouraged here, too!

It was the early 90s and a certain kind of one piece dress with a split skirt (coulottes) that buttoned up the front was in fashion. I had two of these. I loved them for teaching. They were cute, dressy and easy to wear… This particular day I was wearing one that had a dark green background and blue and white flowers. With it, I featured navy panty hose and brown shoes with a gillie tie.

and then…

I was late for class. It was an upper-level English as a Second Language reading class and we were reading Emerson’s “Self-Reliance”. The class met for 2 hours. We sat in a circle and worked together to discover what Emerson was saying. It was actually interesting to the students and to me. I hurried to the ladies’ room and then rushed to class.

I lectured, then sat and worked with each of the groups, then we met together and worked as a class. When it was over, I stood up and saw, for the first time, that my cute little dress was completely unbuttoned — and open.

I asked the Japanese girl who was still in the room if it had been like that the whole time. She blushed, and nodded. I then understood the strange twitches she’d been sending in my direction in class. It was her way of telling me, “Teacher, you’re more or less naked.”

I buttoned up and went outside to go to my next class. Well, along with the cute dress were cute shoes with “kitten” heels. The surface of the porch of the so-called “temporary building” was wet and I slipped and fell on my ass.

In front of every student in the school. I got up and brushed off my clothes and went to class. OH WELL!

I don’t remember what the class was — writing or grammar — just an hour and it was time for lunch. I walked up the hill to the gorgeous 1970s building that was once Montezuma Hall (RIP) and went into the general store. I walked over to a display of sandwiches and yogurts and stuff and, unaware, stepped forcefully on a sealed packet of mustard.

It exploded with a loud “BANG!” and splattered bright yellow mustard all over my navy stockings. It also scared a mean bitch I mean woman standing next to me who turned toward me ferociously, lifted her hand to slap me, thought better of it and let the whole thing go with, “Don’t you EVER do that again!”

I left with my sandwich and headed toward my office. Somewhere along the way I looked down and saw a ladder running up my stocking, a ladder more than an inch wide.

Some days are better than others…

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