Lance. The name itself reminds me of rainbow flags. J Our story begins on summer day…
Roomie and I were still looking for an apartment and Mr. Scott had graciously agreed to come along for the ride since he knew the area well. We found an apartment on Allen and after viewing it and deciding there was no way in hell we would live there, Mr. Scott and Roomie were basically on their way out. Not wanting to be rude, I waited at the stairs for the landlord to lock up. Our conversation went something like this:
“So what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a law clerk at a firm downtown. I’m in the process of applying for law school.”
“Oh my son is an attorney! He went to Pepperdine Law. VERY CONSERVATIVE SCHOOL.”
“Oh really? I applied to Pepperdine. What firm does your son work for?”
“Well, he used to work for a big firm and hated it. So he left and started his own firm, and now he fights for the gays.”
…silence because I am trying not to laugh….
“My other son is an attorney too and hated where he worked too. So he also quit his job and joined my son’s firm and now he fights for the gays too.”
I muttered something and left before I lost it and started laughing. We got in the car and I relayed the conversation to Mr. Scott and Roomie who promptly started laughing. We had visuals of this woman’s son with a long stick with a point on the end and a rainbow flag attached to it as he prance….er…marched around waving his flag. Honestly, who uses the term “the gays?” We tried to come up with a name for him and decided he was “Lance, the Gay Crusader.” Realizing we had no name for our beta fish, we named him “Lance, the Gay Crusader…the fish.” So that is how Lancey Pants got his name.