The Badwill

Like Goodwill, Badwill is a thrift shop, where people donate their unused and unwanted items. However, it differs in one important aspect- all of its items are cursed.

BEAST PANTS (PARTII of the Badwill series)

T1= teenager one.

T2= teenager two

S= the store owner.

T1: Dude! Check these out!

T2: beast pants? I can see why they're called that. I bet you'd look like a total beast in those.

T1(to store owner) where the f**k do you even find something like this?

S:I did not find them. They found me.

 Be careful 

T1: I'm not going to rip them or anything.

S: oh no. they are very hardy, you, however, should try not to end up like that poor unfortunate, Steve Irwin.

T1: what?

S: Legend has it that these pants were sewn by a cunning sorcerer, who hated more than anything a musician called Jerry Sunspot.

To the sorcerer, he was the representation of all that was wrong with today's youth.

his fashion sense was appalling, his language gratingly inane, and every time the sorcerer heard Sunspot's music he wanted to hide out in the wilderness and explode things until he had forgotten all the words to those catchy lyrics.

And after one to many times being taunted by that so called music at the supermarket, it all became too much for the poor warlock.

One dark and stormy night, he took the skin of the great Shaggoloth, and created an abomination, the likes of which had never been seen by human eyes

After teaching the creature to loathe Sunspot as much as he did, the sorcerer let it loose into the world to terrorize the fashionably challenged.

It travelled far and long, keeping to the shadows of forgotten places, mauling unsuspecting hipsters in the darkness.

And at last, it finally reached one of the musician's tour destinations, and hid in the closet of his dressing room pretending be naught but an ordinary pair of trousers

There is little record of what happened when Jerry Sunspot slipped his bony, unsuspecting, legs into the maw of the waiting beast. Some say that he managed to escape with his life by tricking it into the washing machine and imprisoning it there long enough to escape.

But one thing is certain. Jerry Sunspot was never the same after that night.

Yes, he contained to sing slightly annoying songs well into his old age. But all those years, he know that the trousers were roaming the earth, seeking vengeance. From that day on, Jerry was different.

He armed his bodyguards with hotirons.

He cowered behind the drummer whenever ladies flung their underpants at him, until he was utterly certain that the diabolical items posed no danger.

For Jerry had learned his lesson, at least when it concerned certain, unsuitable items of clothing.

He never wore pants again

(the two teenagers look at each other, and then down at the pants)

T1: I've GOT to try these on.

(next panel, where the pants are running rampant, and the store owner is standing on a chair, beating them off with a broom)  

T1: arrrgh! get them off me!

Author's Note

This is intended for comic/graphic novel form. Besides the awkward transition into the story (which I would love some help with!) I'm out of snappy one liners to conclude this story with. Otherwise, I'm just going to keep polishing this to cruel perfection.