"I can move shit!" he roared. "I can move chairs and beds and I can move dressers!" he proclaimed.
"But I gotta ask ya? Do you..." he giggled and leaned in closer. "Do you have magical titties? Can I see them? Is- is it like looking into a magical pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?"
He looked at his t-shirt, there was still blood on it. "Oh yeah thanks. This is a dope t-shirt. I have a million shirts with dogs on 'em. My kid thinks they're fuckin' hysterical. Gets-gets her gigglin' e'ry time," he giggled. "Hey, how do you get blood outta a t-shirt?"