Fish in the Pants

So there we were, surfing the Puerto Rican Pipeline, rocking as we rolled and vice versa. The waves had to be double overhead and faster than a Utahn at a KFC 2-for-1 coupon give away. We rode, we got pummeled, we paddled, we swam. The sun bronzed our perfect bodies, bleached our Aryan hair, and freckled our Irish faces.

When we got back to the guest house we were staying at, Phil went into the hallway shower and I hopped in the shower that was in our room. As Phil took off his shorts (don’t worry, it doesn’t turn dirty at this point…if you want dirty, try this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vpdBMRlf2gI), two little fish fell out onto the floor. The fish were in his shorts, repeat, the fish were in his shorts. He says he felt a school of fish run into his legs as he was out in the water, but was unaware that they had set up shop in his trunks.