My Grandfathers Pants by Tegon Maus


My_Grandfather's_Pants_by_Tegon_Maus_-_high_res_300dpi

Jack Laskin is an ordinary man. More than ordinary according to some. Running the family hardware store and a life that would bore a snail, nothing exciting ever seems to happen to him.

Then, at his mother’s urging, he tries on a pair of his late grandfather’s old pants and everything changes — most importantly his emerging love life. It’s not long before his mother and her meddling friends get involved.

When an old friend of his grandfather’s tells Jack he has something she wants, his new-found life takes another turn. Having no idea what he is supposed to have, Jack looks to his girlfriend, Connie, and her brother, Robert, for help.

In the end, the answers will all be found in his ‘Grandfather’s Pants’.

About the Author:

I was raised pretty much the same as everyone else… devoted mother, strict father and all the imaginary friends I could conjure.  Not that I wasn’t friendly, I just wasn’t “people orientated”.  Maybe I lived in my head way more than I should have, maybe not.  I liked machines more than people, at least I did until I met my wife. The first thing I can remember writing was for her.  For the life of me I can’t remember what it was about… something about dust bunnies under the bed and monsters in my closet.  It must have been pretty good because she married me shortly after that.  I spent a good number of years after inventing games and prototypes for a variety of ideas before I got back to writing. It wasn’t a deliberate conscious thought, it was more of a stepping stone.  My wife and I had joined a dream interpret group and we were encouraged to write down our dreams as they occurred.  “Be as detailed as you can,” we were told. I was thrilled. If there is one thing I enjoy it’s making people believe me and I like to exaggerate.  Not a big exaggeration or an out right lie mine you, just a little step out of sync, just enough so you couldn’t be sure if it were true or not.  If I can make people think “it could happen,” even for a moment, then I have them and nothing makes me happier.  When I write, I always write with the effort of “it could happen” very much in mind and nothing, I guarantee you, nothing, makes me happier.


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