Cruelty, thy name is James

James Evan Wilson, to be precise.

It was yesterday evening - I stood at our wardrobe and was complaining about my yammies. They all looked ratty, worn out, shabby, with loose buttons and so on.

"Mnm...I hate to go shopping...but I definitely need some new pajamas...."
James joined me and looked over my shoulder into the wardrobe.
"Well...there are still some I like very much..."
I sighed. "Some? Two!"
Jim put his arm around my shoulder. "Two. Right. But in my opinion you don't need yammies at all..."
I grinned at him. "As if I didn't know that."

Okay, we spent a pleasant evening without putting on yammies and I forgot about my words.
Until this forenoon.

I was sitting at my desk brooding over some strange symptoms of a young girl when James came in.
"I had a few minutes, so I thought why not go shopping and buy you new pajamas..."
At this time I was happy and smiled. "Really?"
"Yes. And I got two awfully nice ones!"

Nice. NICE he said!
Here they are...well...parts of them!

NICE????
God! They are embarassing and look incredibly girly! They are pink as you can easily see and the worst thing is I'll have to wear them!!!

I'm damn sure that shop had a rainbow flag over its door!
Thank you, Jim!
Ever so nice!