A Day In The Life Of David Bowie's Pants

I had a rough time as a kid. I was always the smallest, and I was always a boring monochrome of smokey grey. Not quite awsome enough to be black and not relaxed enough to be light grey. I thik everyone was impressed when I made it to hollywood.

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A dressing assistant and the actor came into the costume room, and went straight past all the other pants... straight to my rack! Would you believe it! Admittedly I did have to share my rack with the ladies tights, much to my enduring embarrassment. They took me away to the dressing room; and didn’t that make the fancy suitpants and Calvin Klien Jeans green with envy.

We stopped at another rack for a mens blouse with a very dramatic, frilled v-line who called himself Barry, and a shiny jacket who was so full of himself he wouldn’t even talk to us. Barry and I both agreed we didn’t like him much.

We were neatly arranged on the bed, (don’t ask me why there was a bed in the dressing room; mabye the actor gets tired easy) and waited patiently. I got picked up first but I am a very small pair of pants and I barley fit.

I can not begin to describe what it feels like to have someone wear you. Weird doesn’t even begin to be close... Whats worse is becuase I am so small there was no undergarment and you won’t belive how awkward and insane it is having someones nude body inside you without it being sexual. Try, try very hard and imagion that. You can’t can you?

I was still new and this actor was the first person to wear me, I can’t fathom why the other pants were so happy when someone bought them. Ugh.

Barry was next. He was very loose compared to me but the dressing assitant wanted him tucked in, so I had to try and stretch to make room for him. Good thing we had become friends... plus it put some space between the back of my head and the actors... um... skin.

The shiny jacket was last (shoes notwithstanding). Apparently he was “a bit out of shape”, which meant he weighed alot and wasmaking breathing very difficult for poor Barry. We looked at our reflections as the ctor stood infront of the full length mirror. We didn’t look half bad and the actor and dressing assistant seemed very pleased.

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I never really learnt how to understand the human, but I managed to pcik up the odd word. We were filming a movie called the ‘Labyrinth’ and my actors name was ‘David Bowie’ and he was playing the part of a ‘Goblin King’. It all seemed a bit whacked up to me but I didn’t care.

I felt very special when we rehersed one of the songs becuase I kept hearing, “Pant, Magic Pants.”. Wasn’t until I started to sing along that the nasty shiny jacket corrected me in his huaghty voice and told me that it was “Dance, Magic Dance.”. So I told him he was fat and he didn’t bother me again.

We had a very long, busy day. Hours on set and we had only just gone back to the dressing room. The door closed and mnost of the lights were out. The dressing assitsant seemed very nice, and even decided to help Mr. Bowie out of his clothes; although not very delicatley. Barry and I couldn’t help but laugh as the shiny jacket was hurled aside and impaled on the clothes hook hanging on the wall beside the door. I stopped laughing though when poor Barry got tossed on the floor. I was a little confused when I notice the dressing assistant was taking his clothes off as well.

Both he and Mr. Bowie struggled to get me off and I thought I was going to tear. I was propelled to the mirror.
“FUCK OW!” I cried as I collided with the glass and I groaned as I slid to the floor. Winded.

Barry was just withing earshot and I couldn’t see beacuase I’d landed with my legs on top of my eyes in some retard yoga pose. I asked him what was going on.
“We’re gay clothes.” He lamented,
“What?” I asked my voice muffled by the red carpet... and my ankle. Barry just sighed and didn’t talk to me anymore. I didn’t care, I was tired and kinda sore. I was going to sleep.

And so ended my first day in Hollywood.