My Blue-ish Gray Pants

I stopped by my parent’s house early one week to do laundry because my washing machine wasn’t working. I put a bunch of clothes in the wash and had not been back since. It was now almost a full week later and I was on my way to my parent’s house.
Just as I turned onto my street I received a call from my dad who sounded somewhat frantic, “Hey, where are you?”
“I’m about two minutes from the house. I’m driving up the block right now.” I said trying to sound more rushed than I actually was. I was assuming my dad was going to rant about something I had forgotten to do for him.
“Dad, Can I just talk to you when I get there?” I asked.
“Fine, get here quick, your mother is upset.” My dad said hanging up leaving me puzzled.
I pulled up to the curb, hopped out of the truck, and walked into the house. As I stepped into the kitchen, I opened the fridge and turned towards my mom. She was making spaghetti sauce was holding a wooden spoon. She whipped around and shot me a serious look, while half pointing the spoon in my direction.
“Do you own a pair blue-ish gray pants?” she asked glancing quickly at my father then back at me.
“I mean I’d have to see them, but I’m pretty sure I do own a pair by that description.” I said half laughing at the pointlessness of the question being asked in such a serious manner. I knew which pair she was talking about but I held out for a minute because I wanted to see where this was going.
“Since when do you wear pants like that?” My mom said stepping towards me.
“I don’t think you’re 36 waist.” she said glancing down at my midsection.
“Sometimes a 36inch waist on a pair of pants in one make is much smaller in another,” my dad added.
My mom raises her eyebrows at my dad and I shrugged.
“I used to buy pants larger back in the day Mom, they’re probably mine.”
“Are you sure?” My mom asked looking at me in a very serious manner.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked sternly while stepping out of the kitchen, “What’s with all these questions? Why does it matter if I own blue pants?”
“I found a condom in the pocket and those pants. The pants looked like something your father would wear.” My mom said sitting down with a mixed expression.
“Thought you caught him, didn’t you?” I said jokingly.
I almost made a joke about how they should have been proud that I was at least carrying condoms. Then I almost made a joke about not using condoms because “those things were soooo high school.” Then I decided it was probably best to “let sleeping dogs lie.”
Both my parents gave me a questionable stares as I strolled out of the kitchen to grab my laundry and get out of that house before more questions arose. I guess if my dad were to be trolling the town in any pants containing condoms I’d say that was the pair to do it in.
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