“This is ridiculous,” the tiger rumbled. “Why do I have to be in this form? I would be much happier as my normal self. I could sit behind you and wear my Christmas hat.”
“No Santa hat,” the rat said firmly. “It looks silly.”
“As silly as that sword,” the raccoon retorted. “When's the last time you actually used it in a fight?”
“Come on, guys,” the rat pleaded. “Just a couple of pictures.”
The tiger was not satisfied. “My muscles do not sit on my bones right when I change from tiger to tiger-man. They are all bulgy.”
“No one is going to complain about your muscles,” the rat said.
“That's for sure,” the raccoon said, a bit too slyly.
“What?” said the tiger, his voice getting even deeper. He looked from one to the other.
“You should read the E-mails our web site gets. People...especially teenage girls...like the tiger-man shape. And before you ask, the shorts stay.”
“Bah,” said the tiger. “Enough of this. Take the picture.”
“Say cheese,” said the rat.
“Cheese!” said all three, with varying degrees of grace.