Good Ol' Dave Johnson penned this jewel.
It was in the late 70's and I'd been working on an international heavy-equipment theft ring working out of Golden Gate. A prosecutor, from the east coast, had come over to help out. On his introductory visit, we had some comedy I'll never forget.
Prosecutor Ken was a big, tall, macho guy. He was obviously a man's kinda man. I invited him to walk over to the "Blind-Man's" coffee shop for a cup--a sightless person operated the coffee shop in the government complex for years.
Looking for something to drink, he spied a bottle of ice tea on a lower shelf and bent over to get it. When he did, it sounded like someone emptied the magazine on a Burp-Gun. He'd ripped his pants. Quickly straightening and red-faced, he asked me how bad it was. On inspection, I damn near fell over--his entire right naked butt cheek was sticking out in broad daylight! Choking back laughter, I told him he was in deep doo-doo. And the worst part was, being a warm day we'd both left our suit jackets in the office! He had nothing to cover up his now exposed caboose on the long walk back to my office.
We decided the best thing to do was for him to hold up what was flappin' and for me to walk close-step behind him. We could get things sewed up back at the office with my secretary Sandy's help. So here we go, on a busy day at the courthouse, him scooting along with his hand on his ass and me shuffling 6" behind, like some Three Stooges "You're-in-the-Army-now" skit. We were quite a sight.
He explained that he never wore underwear because the last pair he had worn had rotted off him in the jungles of Vietnam. He was a good guy and I felt sorry for him. When I could keep a straight face.
Sandy stitched his problem up and we went on to put several players in jail, as well as run a few more out of the country.
I wonder if he ever started wearing underwear again?
It was in the late 70's and I'd been working on an international heavy-equipment theft ring working out of Golden Gate. A prosecutor, from the east coast, had come over to help out. On his introductory visit, we had some comedy I'll never forget.
Prosecutor Ken was a big, tall, macho guy. He was obviously a man's kinda man. I invited him to walk over to the "Blind-Man's" coffee shop for a cup--a sightless person operated the coffee shop in the government complex for years.
Looking for something to drink, he spied a bottle of ice tea on a lower shelf and bent over to get it. When he did, it sounded like someone emptied the magazine on a Burp-Gun. He'd ripped his pants. Quickly straightening and red-faced, he asked me how bad it was. On inspection, I damn near fell over--his entire right naked butt cheek was sticking out in broad daylight! Choking back laughter, I told him he was in deep doo-doo. And the worst part was, being a warm day we'd both left our suit jackets in the office! He had nothing to cover up his now exposed caboose on the long walk back to my office.
We decided the best thing to do was for him to hold up what was flappin' and for me to walk close-step behind him. We could get things sewed up back at the office with my secretary Sandy's help. So here we go, on a busy day at the courthouse, him scooting along with his hand on his ass and me shuffling 6" behind, like some Three Stooges "You're-in-the-Army-now" skit. We were quite a sight.
He explained that he never wore underwear because the last pair he had worn had rotted off him in the jungles of Vietnam. He was a good guy and I felt sorry for him. When I could keep a straight face.
Sandy stitched his problem up and we went on to put several players in jail, as well as run a few more out of the country.
I wonder if he ever started wearing underwear again?
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