Razor

In the waning sunlight of a warm December afternoon, as my mother did laundry and her attention was diverted, I crept stealthily through the side door of the garage.

I was crafty, for an 8-year-old, and I had my mind set on the prize. It required a step stool, and a flashlight, but I had done this before. I knew where he kept them.

With some blind groping along the high dusty shelf, I found the box, and clutched it with my fingers. It was my dad's dented and dusty box of utility razors, each wrapped for safety in its own cardboard sheath.

I picked out a new one, a sharp one, one that had not been dulled with use. Then silently, I slid the box back into place, and smuggled the razor into the house tucked away in my back pocket.

Having closed my bedroom door, I quickly shipped the razor from my pocket to the secret space under my desk, ready for the next phase...

At 8-years-old, my mother would leave me alone in the house, but only for a very short time. Enough time, for instance, to run to the store to buy some eggs, or such. It was enough time, though, to complete the task.

It was December, after all, and the fake plastic Christmas tree was up in the living room. And already, it was surrounded by alluring packages. Wrapped parcels, the contents of which I wanted to see. I had to see. I would see, and I wouldn't want to wait.

Sure it would be more fun to wait, but who had that kind of patience??

So, with surgical precision, I would slice the taped seems with my wicked-sharp razor, and carefully unfold the flaps to peer inside. I could sense a crappy carton of clothes just by looking at it, and I wouldn't waste my time on those. No, I went for the toys. The heavy solid boxes, packages that rattled, goodies shaped like well-known Star Wars merchandise.

Then, once tallied, I would fold the seems as they had been, and laid new tape exactly over the old tape, and no adult was the wiser. Fun, yes, for the moment, but it blew Christmas morning all to hell...

And in the end, all my Christmas fun was spoiled...

And that is why, kiddies, I will not be posting the submissions early. As of the writing of this post, we have 6 submissions, not including me. Each good in its own way. Some have sent more than one, leaving me with the choice. I will, however, only post one photo per submission (with one necessary exception).

So far, the women have shown all of the spirit and courage. And the guys?? Well, all of my begging for guys to send photos of their shorts is making me feel gay. Or at least gayer than usual. Not that there's anything wrong with it.

So Friday's the day, the dead line is tonight. Break out that digital camera or even your cell phone, and let's see your shorts!

Remember, this is a completely anonymous friendly exhibition, not a competition. Have fun with it! And please, no porn.