“Excuse me, sir, but if you’d like to shop here, you’re required to wear pants.”

These were the first words I recall hearing upon coming to in the middle of a Safeway cereal isle. I was wearing a shirt, underpants, gold watch, socks, and shoes, but, curiously, no pants. Where had my pants gone? And why, for that matter, had they escaped my possession?

Furthermore, why was I in a Safeway at 4:00 AM, shopping for cereal? I knew for a fact that my breakfast pantry was well stocked enough for three nuclear armageddons. I didn’t need more cereal. If anything, I needed Russia to rain down a few ICBMs to give me an excuse to dip into my reserves.

Now the manager had arrived.

“Sir, please leave the store immediately. If you don’t, I’m going to call the police.”

He sounded serious for a graveyard-shift supervisor. No doubt my unwitting display of mild public indecency had irritated him somewhat. Crunch Berries in hand, I set off into the night. On my mind, only one thing: trousers.