A Demonstration Please

''Do I have to?''

Yes, yes you do

''You suck''

Not as much as you will

''Pbbltt!''

Did you just blow a raspberry at me? Nevermind...

Our pudgy redhead will now demonstrate how these shirts function

''Who you calling pudgy asshole?''

Who you calling an asshole, pudgy?

''Pbbltt!''

Again with the raspberry! Would you just open up the cardboard box already?

''Fine''

Finally. Jeesh. Now, dear audience, don't let our guinea pig's demeanour fool you...

''Who the fuck are you calling a guinea pig?''

*Glares in ethereal being*

''Whatever, these shirts all look like cheap crap you know''

If I had lungs I'd sigh. Bah, such is the life of disembodied narration... Anyway, as I was saying. Despite our test subjects poor mood, the possibilities for an owner of these shirts is really quite limitless.

An infinite amount and variation of these shirts can be generated, merely by rummaging through the box as... Sorry, I didn't catch your name

''You didn't even bother to learn my name? Pfft, why am I not surprised''

You could fix that by telling me now

''And you can bite me''

She said, not expecting to feel the sudden sensation of teeth sinking into her soft asscheeks

''Ow! What the fuck was that?''

Heh, don't fuck with the narrator. Now, name please?

''It's Jane, motherfucker''

Ah, lovely. Ms.Motherfucker it is then

''You know that's not what I meant''

Indeed I do.

Now, while Ms.Motherfucker is still rummaging through the pile of shirts, this keeps bringing new shirts to the top of the pile almost constantly, even though the size of the pile apparently remains the same and never overflows from the box.

''Why T-shirts?''

Beg your pardon?

''Why is it a box full of just T-shirts? You couldn't have hot pants, maybe some hoodies... A leather jacket might be kinda sweet. But yeah, why just T-shirts?''

Know what? Fine