See, there were these brothers-in-law. And the one (let’s call him Larry) gave the other (let’s call him Bill) an extraordinarily ugly pair of pants for Christmas.
I’m going to mix up the tricks over the years, but I’m sure Minnesotans of a certain age know the story.
The next year Bill gave the pants back to Larry…encased in concrete. The year after that, Larry returned the pants…encased in concrete inside of a tractor tire. The year Bill took the same pair of pants, put them into a tractor tire, and dropped them on Larry’s driveway. The next year. Larry put them in a glove box, and put them into a car subsequently squished by a car-wrecking place.
I lost the story over the years, and moved away from home, and came back, and The Story Of The Pants ended up being one of those things that make people look at you like you’re nuts when you mention it.
Tonight, however, I watched On The Road by Jason Davis, and found that the pants (those poor pants) met a decent end. One b-i-l hired a truck to deliver them to anohter b-i-l.
Cremated.
In a jar.
And called an end to the feud.
Now I’m a lefty, and because I am I think that all is right in the world. But there’s this part of me that wishes the pants (remember the pants?) had been in the basement when the old Met was detonated. Or that they’d been in the Wabasha tunnels.
Or, maybe, there are a couple of Dopers who could’ve come up with a better end of the ugly pants…
Thank you so much for telling us. At my house every time we talk about bad gifts we have to talk about “the pants” I thought that in addition to being ugly they were sheepskin and became very stiff when cold. I can’t wait to tell everyone.
My parents and grandparents had a ‘thing’ with a plastic Easter Lily, akin to “The Pants”, and every year the pants were alluded to upon the annual attempted gifting of the lily.
(BTW, Jason Davis and his lovely Brit accent is on KSTP. I love “On The Road”- just when I think Minnesota is as boring as, well, as we’re portrayed, he finds something to make me say “Wow!”)
IIRC, there was a similar gig between two relatives in the Chicago area eons ago. They didn’t exchange pants. Not even sure it was always the same item, endlessly recycled, but the means of delivery was always unusual. One year, a cubic yard block of concrete magically appeared on the lawn, and somewhere inside, was The Gift.
I agree. They’re one of the best in the country. But if you’re sick enough to have to travel to Minnesota for care, you can’t be all that happy, is what I meant.
