Whenever I wear my khaki cargoes, I have noticed that the urge to scratch my balls increases twelvefold. I suppose it's the triple-stitch construction and the high-quality heavy-duty fabric that contributes to this oddity. It's just that compared with all my denim, my package has much more freedom of movement in these cargoes. When I'm wearing them and get up to walk across the room, I just reach down and scratch 'em. It's the greatest feeling. I've even considered converting my entire wardrobe to cargoes. They're so roomy, I could have a complete, raging hardon and it will never show. Come to think of it, these cargoes would've been perfect when I was twelve. Damn the Gap for not making them fashionable until eight years too late. The mental anguish I could have avoided! I think I'll file a suit against them for conspiring against the pubescent boys of the early nineties. And when I'm in court finally getting subsidised for my years of misfortune, you can bet I'll be wearing those cargoes, scratching away while no one notices a thing.