"Ah, gentlemen, I think this one may please you both," the clerk says
tossing you a rolled up t-shirt.
You catch and unroll it. Erik laughs, and says, "Put it on!"
You peel off your shirt and pull on the shiny skintight t-shirt with
the words emblazoned on it "Erik's Perfect Costume." Erik's got his
camera phone out to take your picture. The shirt is really tight. It
clings to you like a second skin - like it's painted on you. You have
difficulty breathing. You try to take it off. But its fused or been
absorbed into your torso. You feel weak in the knees. Erik is staring
and laughing as you wobble back and forth losing control of your body.
"Oh, Shawny, you will make the perfect costume for me!"
You turn to face a mirror, and gape. Your body is distorted and well
it seems to be collapsing as if you were hollow.
"Oh, Giles, you were right. It'll be worth every penny to wear this
costume," Erik says pointing at you. He hands the old man a wad of
$100 bills, as you collapse in a heap on the floor.