Ewan's leatheresque pants antics

This morning I was engaging in a dream in which a small paraplegic dwarf took residence on my face, gradually inserting both legs into my nostrils before jacking himself off vigorously once he was sure his stiletto heels had been successfully planted deep in my olfactory tissues.

Unceremoniously, I was awoken by my dad watering his garden, generating a sound that I previously only possible via the ejection of whale semen. I resigned myself to fate, and being secrectly angry as I burrowed my head into my blankets and attempted to fall asleep again. This endeavour was unsuccessful, partly because my sinuses felt like I had been snorting crystallized acid, and partly because my dad had taken to loudly conversing with a neighbour living two blocks away.

By then I was more than moderately pissed off as I hoisted myself into an upright position and discovered that my head must've shattered into 37 seperate pieces while I'd been sleeping. I made a mental note to thwart any future 'elevator dreams' I may have the misfortune to dream about in the future.

I decided the only way to take control of my current predicament was to walk to McDonald's and buy myself a pound of lard to scoff. I made no effort to look good, chalking it up to the fact that I wanted to at least blame something on my cold before it evaporated.

Surprise! I was served by a gangly, misshapen man with a nametag that spelled out "EWAN" in Times New Roman. I have had many experiences with Ewan, most of them revolving around Chicken McNuggets, missing sauce and his perilously tight pants.

A friend and I have complained on the 'Customer Satisfaction Surveys' about the nature of Ewan's demon trousers: Aside from being grievously underwashed, they also wrap around his bow-shaped legs like clingfilm on a block of rancid, stained cheese, leaving little to the imagination and displaying his sizeable package for the world to see. However I don't think they took us seriously enough. The next week I returned as a regular customer to see Ewan's pants as tight as ever with what looked like a small codpiece adorning his nethers.

So I stood there, barely able to keep my eyes open and thinking "I really don't have time for his distracing body-hugging shenanigans", when I accidentally looked down and discovered that his pants were...LOOSER. I was so happy I would have cried right there except it may have been embarrassing to do so.

Of course, there was a catch.

When I returned home and looked into my bag of hotcakes, there was no syrup.

Aaaaaaaagh.