“It’s not making a full circuit,” The tailor said.
He was looking at a pair of Roderick’s trousers. They appeared to be an ordinary pair, something one would wear for nine-to-five shifts. Yet here he was at the tailor’s, trying his best to create a constructive complaint for double the money he spent.
“Oh sure,” He said. “I’ve ran some major laps in those. Gotta stay in shape for the ladies.”
The tailor sighed, “No, I mean they’re not making a full circuit.”
“What does a pipsqueak like you know about pants?”
“It’s my profession, and I can tell you that they are not working properly.” The tailor leaned in. “You know what they are right?”
Roderick grinned. He had made the purchase at a punk clothing store. Alongside the skull T-shirts and leather jackets he was familiar with, he found those pants for a thrifty price. The advertisement, promising sex appeal and a fit body, had inspired him, discarding his love of biker gangs for chic clothing.
“Aren’t they the best,” He said. “I thought that McNeys sucked the balls from men.”
“True,” The tailor replied. “They fry them instead.”
Roderick cocked an eye and shook his head, “What?”
“These are the signature Eclectic Electric; McNey’s first in their lineup of light-Up denim fabrics.”
Roderick chuckled and started sweating torrents.
“Relax,” the tailor said, unfazed. “They don’t really do that sort of thing.”
“Then where’s my sexiness? Those legs of mine ain’t eye candy, even after all that running.”
“That,” The tailor took out a switch from a trouser pocket. “Is when the eclectic turns electric.”
He pressed a button and the pants were lit in neon colors. Another button press and they began to circulate in a simple pattern.