Clyde: [frantic, via walkie-talkie] Lincoln! Lori's coming! [acting all suave] Don't worry, I'll stall her.
[Clyde shoves the communications device into his pants pocket. He brings up a marker, drawing a fake mustache on his upper lip. The color is light green instead of the planned black, but he doesn’t appear to notice. The chance to impress Lori completely occupies his mind.]
[As he throws the marker away, he prepares to tear his shirt off from the left side, but the fabric won’t give. He tries the right side. The result remains the same. Left again, and no positive result.]
[Desperate, Clyde pulls the hem of his shirt up, switching to the old-fashioned way. He’s halfway there, arms waving wildly like tentacles, when the shirt becomes a bit stuck between the neck and head. But it only lasts a fraction of a second. The shirt rockets into the air.]
[Clyde stands there, face expressing blank surprise and arms up. Then he qu