Max's mother kissed him good night, turned out the light and softly shut the door before turning in exhausted herself.  As soon as Max's breathing evened out signifying his descent into slumber, a light blue crumpled t-shirt twitched. Then it stretched itself out and like an inchworm and began moving steadily toward the door. 

A white t-shirt hung over the arm of the desk chair. It reached toward the ceiling like a gym bro on a sit-up machine. It flexed its shoulders and then jumped down from the chair landing on improvised rolled hems shaped like feet.

A yellow shirt hung on the back of the door. A soft snoring could be heard coming from its square front-side pocket. The gym t-shirt grabbed it by the collar, and despite a muffled protest, dragged it along. 

The three t-shirts crossed the living room floor avoiding dust bunnies and floorboards that might creak and give them away. They reached the kitchen, famished. The yellow t-shirt sank to the floor and continued to snore. The white t-shirt boosted the yellow one to the counter and the yellow t-shirt in turn reached down and pulled the white one up. They scooted across the counter looking for goodies, and found none, though the white t-shirt stepped in some peanut butter someone had carelessly left on the counter.

No matter.

They headed for the fridge and in a daring acrobatic feat between the two they managed to open it. Here they found a bonanza. Chocolate pudding, hot dogs, soda pop. They munched their way through. Gym t-shirt wanted to heat the hot dogs in the microwave but the blue t-shirt brought him to his senses.

"The beeping will wake everyone up!" he hissed.

"Why can't they make microwaves that don't beep," lamented gym t-shirt.

"Look let's just put ketchup and mustard on them and call it good," said blue t-shirt.

But maneuvering the condiments proved more difficult for two t-shirts than it should have been. The ketchup squirted clear across the kitchen and landed on yellow t-shirt who grumbled in his sleep. Blue t-shirt got mustard all down his front.

In the wee hours of the morning the three t-shirts headed back to the bedroom. They had given yellow t-shirt some chocolate pudding so he wouldn't be hungry in the morning.

They resumed their original positions.

Max's mother shook him awake a few hours laters. 

"Time to get ready for school, honey," she said.

He yawned and reluctantly got dressed. When he arrived to the breakfast table his mother gave him a foreboding look.

"I just bought that white t-shirt, don't tell me it is already stained," she said.

Max looked down, disappointed himself at the state of his new t-shirt. He had not idea how it had gotten so dirty.

"Sometimes I think my t-shirts stain themselves," he said.