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impertinent scheme of life.
At the same time I knew that my uncle had honored me, of all
his numerous nephews, by handing down his pants to me, and I felt
honored, and to a certain extent clothed. My uncle's pants, I sometimes
reasoned unhappily, were certainly better than no pants at all, and with
this much of the idea developed my nimble and philosophical mind leapt
quickly to the rest of the idea. Suppose a man appeared in the world
without pants? Not that he wanted to. Not just for the fun of it. Not as a
gesture of individuality and as a criticism of Western civilization, but
simply because he had no pants, simply because he had no money with
which to buy pants? Suppose he put on all his clothes excepting pants?
His underwear, his stockings, his shoes, his shirt, and walked into the
world and looked everybody straight in the eye? Suppose he did it?
Ladies, I have no pants. Gentlemen, I have no money. So what? I have
no pants, I have no money. I am an inhabitant of this world. I intend to
remain an inhabitant of this world until I die or until the world ends. I
intend to go on moving about in the world, even though I have no pants.
What could they do? Could they put him in jail? If so, for how
long? And why? What sort of a crime could it be to appear in the world,
among one's brothers, without pants?
Perhaps they would feel sorry, I used to think, and want to give
me an old pair of pants, and this possibility would drive me almost crazy.
Never mind giving me your old pants, I used to shout at them. Don't try
to be kind to me. I don't want your old pants, and I don't want your new
pants. I want my own pants, straight from the store, brand new, size,
name, label, and guarantee. I want my own God damn pants, and nobody
else's. I'm in the world, and I want my own pants.
I used to get pretty angry about people perhaps wanting to be
kind to me, because I couldn't see it that way. I couldn't see people
giving me something, or anything. I wanted to get my stuff the usual
way. How much are these pants? They are three dollars. All right, I'll
take them. Just like that. No hemming or hawing. How much? Three
dollars. 0. K., wrap them up.
The day I first put on my uncle's pants my uncle walked away
several paces for a better view and said, "They fit you perfectly."
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Plenty of room at the top," he said.
"Yes, sir," I said.
"And nice and snug at the bottom," he said.
"Yes, sir," I said.
Then, for some crazy reason, as if perhaps the tradition of pants

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