Not the 37th, but the 36th time I changed my shirt

The sun was already down and a car was outside blowing its horn. Another horn began to blow, with a different sound. The shirt I was wearing was a little bit too tight. It seemed like a size too small. I guess I should have tried it on before buying it. I put it back in the drawer to deal with later, hopefully before I died. The cars began honking again, at least the first one did. The driver was really leaning on the horn. It was shriller than the other one.

I would like the other one to start honking, I thought, and it did! Then I wondered if they were honking for me. It had been a long time since I began getting ready to go out—probably about six hours. I felt guilty, like I was making them late, but then I remembered that I wasn’t going out to meet anybody. I was going out to buy a shirt. The horn blew again outside and I thought again, Maybe it is me they want. So I went outside, without a shirt on. I took the elevator down. When I got to the bottom an old woman with a walker was waiting to ride the elevator up. My naked chest left her speechless for a moment, then she asked, “Is that your mouse?” I thought it was a strange question, but then I felt a tickling on my skin, and indeed, a mouse was crawling on my shoulders. “Where did you come from, friend?” I asked, and the mouse said, “I came from inside your nipples, Jack.” “Maybe that’s why I’m named Nipplejack,” I thought. Everything was starting to make sense. I walked out of the building while the old lady was watching me, not entering the elevator. I turned back around. “What floor do you live on?” She asked. “Oh why don’t you just stuff it you old bitch!” I yelled rudely. “Why, the nerve you have to talk to a senior citizen that way!” I replied in a mocking, mean tone, “The nerve you have to talk to a senior citizen that way.” I took out a lighter and lit my pants on fire. “Oh my god, what are you doing?” The old lady screamed, digging through her purse, presumably looking for her cell phone. “I don’t know!” I said, the flames burning my body. “Why did I do this?” The old lady pushed her walker over to the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall, aimed it at me, and doused the fire, coating me in white dust. I coughed hard and cried. “You saved my life! How can I ever repay you?” The old lady smiled and combed my hair. “My little baby,” she said. “You’re my little rabbit.”