He looked down at this morsel and silently wondered how was he going to fit his rather manly, middle aged frame, which had certainly seen better days, into this second skin as the Chameleons song, Second Skin, began playing in his mind.
Mentally he was holding on to what had once been, ‘Hovis Monk, 28, freshly promoted, going places kind of guy, etc.......’
That very same guy was standing here right now, wondering just what trials and tribulations he was going to have to go through with the Great One’s Onesey, just so he could look a complete idiot at the end of his lesson in un-natural contortion?
Before him lay this Flame Red, Second Skin, that did indeed seem to have some amount of elasticity but still, a good deal of imagination, or delusion, would be required when it came to the actual moment of truth. He held up the onesey against himself to fully ascertain the dimensional ambiguity. His heart sank and he put the onesey back down on the table. This was going to require a little thought, before he did anything.
Firstly, he had an inordinate amount of difficulty in deciding whether you climbed into it, or started by putting the top part of the infernal thing on, like a cardigan. Either option seemed impossible to Hovis as he picked it up again and laid it easily, on one of his thighs.
"Well, one thing's for sure," he muttered to himself. "It won't fit over your weekday clothes," he casually sucked his stomach in, as though pretending he was thinner was going to make something happen. When nothing did, he and the onesey made their way into the bedroom.