Somewhere, somehow, there was a shirt that ate people.
Now, the owners of the shirt, also known as the Fickle Fleshed-out Fashion Fans, did not like such an ordeal. The screams of those consumed by the shirt stained their more superior works, such as the hat that salivates over bald people or the tie that constantly tickles your femur. However, such a shirt had to be tolerated if they wanted to maintain their position of a paragon.
In order to tolerate the shirt, they locked it up in The Super-Secret-Closet of The Fourteen Cardinal Direcciones. This closet was behind, under, and on top of many other closets which housed much more fitting clothes. Though it was unorganized, it managed to keep the shirt at bay, which is all that mattered to the Fickle Fleshed-out Fashion Fans.
Until the shirt got mad.
No one knows how the shirt got mad, for the maze of closets prevents anyone attempting to use the Tubular Technique of Techie Trekkie Telepathy on the shirt. All they knew was that the shirt penetrated the doors of The Super-Secret-Closet of The Fourteen Cardinal Direcciones, licked two mannequins guarding the closets to death, and went on a rampage.
The Fickle Fleshed-out Fashion Fans knew immediately, sensing the terrible agony from the shirt tramping over their well-groomed corridors. Fusing all as one, the Fickle Fleshed-out Fashion Fans became the Preposterous Pickled Powerful Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy and prepared themselves for the final battle by forcefully bench-pressing nearby mannequins.
The shirt was already 31808% through the maze. All it needed to do was to rid of some nasty closets tramping all over its plans. Such closets used un-closet-like techniques, such as using the Tick-Tock-Here’s-The-Slock-Ha! trick to enforce agony upon the shirt, causing the stitches on its pocket to be thirsty for revenge, aggressively asphyxiating the buttons as a result. Such an ordeal caused agony and chaos throughout the shirt’s crusty vessel, with the closets gleefully laughing at the shirt intently ramming into the walls on accident.
However, the shirt literally had a trick under its sleeve. It rushed near the nastiest closet and forcefully shoved the sleeve onto the doorknob. Such an action prompted an illegal response from the closet, allowing the shirt to fully devour it as its victim screamed in agony from breaking the law.
The Fickle Fleshed-out Fashion Fans, now fused as the Preposterous Pickled Powerful Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy, could not tolerate any more agony. After leaping into the air and spinning 420 degrees, it jabbed through the T H I C C floor, penetrating through the barrier which enforced the shirt’s not-escape. The shirt, now sniffing the wonderful opportunity, forgot all about the nasty closets and sprinted to the hole, hoping for freedom and the ability to hear the crying screams of humans caught in its gaping maw as it buttoned itself for doom enforcement. However, it made a disastrous boo-boo. The closets would not let such a bad be let loose upon the free market, clamping their cantankerous jaws upon their opponent. After hearing such sick alliteration, the shirt gasped in agony, prompting the final rage from the Fickle Fleshed-out Fashion Fans, now fused as the Preposterous Pickled Powerful Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy.
The Preposterous Pickled Powerful Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy dashed rapidly, skirt-skirting around every closet, nasty, naughty, or just plain haughty. With their incredible skirt-skirting powers, the shirt was unable to hear their deafening, reverberating movements of silence. The Preposterous Pickled Powerful Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy, tasting an opportunity to end the shirt, thrust its epiglottis forward in a declaration of war.
The shirt, with its finely-tuned reflexes, caught the attack with its collar.
“I see.” It growled. “We finally meet after all those years you sealed me.”
The Preposterous Pickled Powerful Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy, in utter despair, broke out of the shirt’s mighty grasp.
“Nay,” They said, “For the fourteen four forty-four fourth years we sealed you for so on so forth was for The Greater Good.”
“The Greater Good!” The shirt was bursting with laughter, its fibers being ripped apart by its sheer energy. “I am the Greater Good!”
“What?!” The Pickled Powerful Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy was frightful of revelations like this.
“Yes! And now that you have triggered me, it is time for me to transform into my Final Forme!”
With the power of its laughter and the power of it being triggered, the shirt completely burst, with each and every fiber torn apart. After a short delay of sixty-nine years, the fibers reassembled, finding much more efficient ways to be sewn together. The Preposterous Pickled Power Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy, in awe of such sheer strength, watched with their eyes bulging as the remains of the shirt contorted through two ends horizontally parallel to each other going in opposite directions. However, they knew they could not sit idle with such a spectacle of evil about, readying their attacks as their foe was completed.
“Yes!” The shirt, now The Greater Good, was feeling quite lovey-dovey after being reincarnated. “Now, witness my true power!”
The Greater Good lunged, causing the Preposterous Pickled Power Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy to tremble. With its rad fists, The Greater Good struck at the Preposterous Pickled Power Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy’s medulla, causing instantaneous agony. The Preposterous Pickled Power Plaid Laid Back Blaster Buoy decided to use their last resort.
“You may have become strong,” They said as they rose from the ashes of their pain, “But how can just you be strong when you fuse with all of us!”
The Greater Good gasped in horror. The Preposterous Pickled Power Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy cackled with glee, gleeful that their bluff worked. To counter such humiliation, The Greater Good unbuttoned itself, releasing a powerful beam of energy which penetrated the Preposterous Pickled Power Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy’s small intestine.
“Ha ha!” The Preposterous Pickled Power Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy rose, clenching their wound. “Little did you know, you allowed the final part of our plan to come into fruition!”
The Greater Good howled as the Preposterous Pickled Power Plaid Laid-Back Blaster Buoy began doing the Suckity Sucktion Mucktion Madness, slowly dragging The Greater Good slowly into the wound. Eventually, both parties touched, fusing with such vigor that an there was an explosion which decimated the entire labyrinth.
And thus, that is the moral of the story.