When Philip Met Sireena

Fresh Out of the Slammer

Six months he spent in jail. He was finally let out, albeit on parole. This was the start of a new chapter in the life of Philip Trousers.

His accomplices, Hervnick Z. Snerz and Kyler Twotymer, were left to their fates. One was in permanent solitary confinement wearing a straitjacket and the other was reduced to ash on an electric chair. (Can you guess which ones?) Philip's own evaluation assessed him as "vain", "quite dim" and "a bigger danger to himself than others".

During his time in prison, Philip had to learn the hard way that asking for a jar of hair gel or something other than his jumpsuit to wear would earn him five minutes doing a handstand with his pinkies. At this point, he was pretty sure the bones inside them were flatter.

Flanked by guards, the now free Philip Trousers was led to the gates of the prison, where a yellow station wagon was waiting for him. In the driver's seat was his father, Benjamin Trousers, who looked incredibly displeased.

"Hello, Father", Philip said as he took the passenger seat.

"Don't talk, son. I still need time to..." the elder Trousers stopped to level his emotions. "Move on. FYI, your mother is the only one who's looking forward to seeing you."

"Then where is she?"

"Home. Setting up a homecoming shindig for you."

"What's a shindig?"

Benjamin groans and hits his forehead on the steering wheel.

——

"Philip!", yelled Phyllis Trousers as he walked into the house.

"Hi, Mum", he responded softly. Then he was hugged by her.

"I'm glad to have you home, Philly! Mummy missed you so much!" She then kissed the same spot on his cheek twice.

Benjamin stared with a plain expression before proceeding. "Yes, welcome home, Philip. Let's get moving."

"Ben! Please!", his wife snapped at him. She regained her composure and looked at Philip again. "Let's just try to have a good time for once."

Phyllis made a quaint dinner for her son. As he ate, his mother maintained an expression of happiness, although she looked somewhat pained. Benjamin, on the other hand, wasn't hiding how he felt.

Philip looked from side to side, reading his parent's faces. The only sounds being produced were his cutlery cutting his steak/tapping the porcelain dish.

"Food alright?", Ben asked suddenly.

"Yes, Father", Philip replied, shocked by the silence being broken.

Phyllis shoots her husband a look that says 'act cool'. "Philly...bet you sure missed Mummy's cooking, didn't you?"

"Of course."

"Excellent." She put on her pained smile again.

"Is something wrong, Mum? At first, you seemed actually happy to have me home. Now you...don't."

Her eyes went wide. Odds were that she was thinking: When did my son get so good at reading people?

"I guess you and Father both need time to 'move on'. I understand. Perhaps I could've delayed my parole for another decade."

"Oh, Philly! Don't say that! Ben, will you please say something?"

"Uh...welcome home."

Philip stopped eating. "I'm not hungry." He stood up and walked away.

——

Later that evening, Philip was back in his old bedroom. He'd hardly changed anything about it since his teenage years. One thing that was even further back that didn't change was his affinity for footie pajamas. He loved his sky blue jammies. For him, it was the right level of comfort and warmth for him in the night.

Too bad no one else let him be him.

Sometimes he wished he was smarter. He had the looks but no brains; he often imagined he was a chocolate bubble (had nothing beneath the surface). Once he was given his job as spy for the Dookess, he felt like he had purpose. Marilyn Blouse seemed to tolerate him until she left him for dead in that Goo-Lacka-Goo. Twotymer and Snerz only put up with him because they had a common enemy. Speaking of whom, Pam-I-Am and her son Sam and Sylvester, wherever he was, did give him a good challenge. To him, it was kind of fun to tussle on missions. Perhaps if he made some kind of peace offering to them, if he found them again, he could be allowed on their side. It's not like they'd be quarreling anymore; Ookia was whole once again.

Hold on, he said to himself. Did I just have an idea? Then he remembered it wasn't his first. He did go to Snerz to ask for help with his revenge plot. But if he's gonna take the steps to better himself, maybe he should let bygones be bygones. So no more digging up the past, Trousers.

——

It was hard to find work when one has a criminal record. Or when one lacked good social skills.

First, Phillip tried getting work at the home improvement store. He almost turned the paint section into rainbow carnage. Next, he tried a department store. It wasn't his fault the cash register burst into flames! Any other he tried, those being jobs like janitor at the bank or security guard at the nuclear plant, he was kicked all the way to the curb.

"Ugh. This is useless", he mutters to himself as he sat at the café. "I'm useless."

Philip took a cursory glance around and he saw a woman enter the café. As she made her order to the barista, Philip got the confidence to get up and walk over to her.

"Hi", he greeted.

The woman turned around. "Oh, hi!"

Now he was at a loss for words.

She chuckles. "You okay, sir?"

"Uh—yes! Just—you know—brain fart", he stammered.

"Oh, Seuss. You too, huh?"

Now he chuckles. "I'm...Philip. Philip Trousers", he greets, holding his hand out.

"Sireena."

Now, love at first sight is usually frowned upon, but if it's any consolation, these two didn't quite feel love.

Yet.

—————

Cover art by supernova_2021