A Tale of Heroism

I broke the zipper on my favorite pair of pants not too long after I bought them. Nicole came to my rescue however and fixed them for me. The zipper that she put in them is a really big industrial sized metal monster, which will never break again. The problem with this new zipper is that it is so study that it can zip over most material without a problem.
About a week ago I was wearing these pants to work. After lunch I went to the bathroom, while unzipping my pants I noticed that the zipper got stuck and wouldn't zip down any further. No problems, I had my fly open far enough that I could still use the bathroom. When I finished I tried to zip up my pants only to find that the zipper was stuck. Really stuck. Like the zipper has ate the opening of my boxers on both sides of the zipper. Like the bottom part of the zipper was completely riding on my boxer flap -I have no idea how this is even possible. I tried yanking on the zipper to get it to move up or down, but let me tell you it will not move at all. After about a minute I just about gave up and figured I would just finish up my day with an open fly, I don't tuck in my shirt at work so my fly would only be slightly noticeable. There is only one small problem with that plan.
You see boxers are not as uniformly made as briefs are, and each one has its own personality. One group of three boxers I own was made in a magical way that allows part of me to get on out there if everything is moved just right. Normally this is no big deal as I have pants on, so all parts of me are covered anyways.
Now that day I happened to be wearing a pair of these boxers that have this problem. And now to compound this problem my stuck zipper has completely ate the opening flap for the boxers, basically begging me for a wardrobe malfunction.
This would not do, walking abound with an open fly is one thing but playing indecent exposure Russian roulette with every step I take is another. I was basically stuck in the bathroom in my office contemplating if I really needed to come out for the final three hours of my workday.
By now I had given up on calmly solving the ordeal and figured my pants needed to get zipped up even if it meant the demise of my underwear. I pulled as hard as I could and in every direction until, at some point, the zipper just got bored and let go. Nothing even got ripped up.
I went back to work like nothing happened.