Work Text:
As Sam got dressed, Al sucked on his cigar, watching with a curious look on his face.
Sam paused, the end of the shirt still in his mouth. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked through a mouthful of fabric.
“Why in the world do you put the end of your shirt in your mouth like that?”
Sam slackened his jaw, allowing the shirt to drop. “Uh… I dunno. Keeps me from putting it on backwards I guess?”
“You have an IQ of 256. Surely you can put on a shirt.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “With my teeth.”