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Daren was in a foul mood.

He hated rush deliveries. Hated them with a passion. A rush delivery meant he couldn’t use his scooter, couldn’t enjoy the breeze in his hair as he sped through the city streets to whatever destination. No. rush deliveries meant he had to fly. Fly between the buildings, over the roads, where everyone would stop and stare as he went by. Cheers and gasps would rise from the crowds below.

Rush deliveries sucked.

5 minutes after receiving notice, Daren had the package and was standing in front of the addressee’s door. A quick knock was all it took to bring his target to the door. The man looked young, maybe in his mid twenties. He was around 5’8″, thick, but not fat, with dark brown hair, and a beard. He introduced himself as Tip. Daren handed the package over, and pulled out his tablet for the man to sign. As he was doing this, he noticed the man’s pants.

Damn, those were some fine pants. Daren couldn’t help but stare. The cut was flawless, and the simple pants seemed to radiate style. As if Tip got this a lot, he smiled. “You like these? I just whipped these up this morning.” Daren was shocked. “You made these?” “Of course. I make all my pants.”

Daren felt a little silly. Never in his life had he marveled at a pair of pants, but here he was. He just couldn’t help himself. He shook his head to try and clear it. Turning to leave, he bade Tip a good day. Without thinking, he took off and flew up into the air. It wasn’t until he was halfway back to his office that he noticed the initials signed on his tablet.

T.H.P.

Daren stopped in mid air, jaw gaping. It all clicked…

The Human Pantaloness.

—

Tip had followed Daren with his eyes until he was out of sight. He then shut the door and turned around. “Is he the one?”

“Yes. He’s the one.” Harn answered.