A/N: Follows Ray Bradbury's story "The Wonderful Ice-Cream Suit"

The Man That Makes the Clothes That Make the Man

What were the odds?

Gomez still shook his head when he thought about it. Finding five men with the same height, weight, and build as himself would have been hard enough in the whole city. The fact that he had found all five in his poor barrio was incredible. Magic. A miracle. And destiny that all six men of the street should have just ten dollars each to pool together and buy it.

It.

Such a short word for such a wonderful, terrific, madre mia-this-can't-be-real-but-there-it-is ice cream white suit. It was draped over the dummy that Mr. Shumway had thrown in when they all crowded into Shumway's Sunshine Suits to make the purchase that glorious Saturday night. A warm, summer night that was alive with the type of things men of their position and standing could only admire from afar. Until...

Until they put on the suit.

"THE CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN!" Mr. Shumway had shouted, laughing as they departed. But Gomez knew otherwise; it wasn't the clothes that made the man, but the clothes that made the man stand out. The clothes that made the man…más. Invisible in their normal attire, with the suit on each of them became in turn a focal point of whatever activity they engaged in, much like the sun shining while all the other planets whirl around it. And the suit provided that light, illuminating whatever dream the man wearing it held.

It had been two months that could be described only as glorious, as each man had somehow improved himself. Gómez no longer looked to run his cons, Villanazul waxed eloquent with an audience that hung on his every world, Martinez had the attentions of the lovely Celia Obregon, Manulo no longer felt the need to drink, Dominguez quit playing the field for pleasure and searched for that one special woman to spend his life with, and Vámenos…well, Vámenos was Vámenos. At least he still kept shaven and bathed, so there might be hope yet.

But there was a thorn bush growing in Paraíso, for often success spoils Paradise.

While their confidence grew fat, so did their waistlines. It came to the point that soon none of the compadres would be able to wear the suit that they shared, each on his day of the week. The thought of not having the suit to wear frightened them, for they came to rely on it rather than their own abilities and strengths.

"I'll go back to stuttering again, a whisper in a crowd" a dejected Villanazul lamented.

"Celia Obregon will find another man with an even better suit to outshine me" Martinez moaned.

"I need a drink" Manulo muttered.

"I will have to start a new black book for women's numbers" Dominguez plotted.

Vámenos shrugged "Easy come, easy go."

"Amigos," Gómez shouted to drag them from their misery "we cannot go back to life before the suit, for it was no life at all. No, there is a thing that the fine caballeros do when they grow fat from their rich lives."

The five men variously asked "What?"

"They have their suits tailored to fit. If we adjust the pants to be a little wider, all will be well."

This thought hadn't occurred to the others. Of course! When the man grows, so should the pants.

"But where shall we have this done?" Villanazul asked. "This is a special suit, and we don't want to ruin it. I can't sew, can you?" Each man admitted he couldn't sew either. "Then where?"

"It's obvious; we go back to where we bought the suit. There was a sign in the window that said alterations made" Gómez answered.

"I thought that meant he'd change the price" Vámenos suggested. He was ignored.

"Compadres, our plan is obvious. Martinez, get the suit. Manulo, get the dummy after Martinez gets the suit. We are off to Shumway's Sunshine Suits!"

Shortly afterward, all six men trooped into the shop; Manulo plunked the dummy down in the middle of the shop floor and Martinez carefully placed the suit on it, flicking off a speck. The clerk Leo came out from the back room and after a quick look at the men and suit sneered "No refunds!"

"Ah señor," Gómez purred "we don't want a refund. This is the most perfect suit ever in the whole world, and we would give our lives to keep it."

Leo's demeanor changed abruptly, and a quizzical look crossed his face. "But if you don't want a refund…"

"The suit is perfect; we are not. We require the pants to be let out a bit, due to our…imperfections." Gómez patted his belly to emphasize the point and the men laughed, repeating the gesture.

"I'll handle this, you go to lunch Leo" Mr. Shumway declared as he entered from the back room as well. He immediately went over and examined the suit with special care, as a mother inspects her newborn the first time it comes home from the hospital. "Gentlemen, you've taken very good care of this suit!"

"And it has taken care of us!" Martinez boasted.

"I thought it might, that's why I sold it to all of you. But there is a problem you see."

"A problem? Vámenos, what have you done to the suit?" Gómez shouted.

"No, the suit is fine" Shumway assured them. "But it cannot be altered. It is as you see it now, as a whole. If one stitch is changed it will lose its…magic, I think you might say." He giggled at the pun. "You'll find yourselves very disappointed in it afterward."

"Can we trade it in for a bigger one?" Villanazul asked.

"I wish I could, but this is one-of-a-kind. I know suits better than anyone, trust me. Considering its condition, if you can't wear it I'll buy it back for the $60 you paid; you won't have lost any money."

"It's not the money" Manulo pleaded. "I…we need the suit."

"I'm sorry gentlemen, I can't change the suit. If you won't sell it back then I wish you a good day." Shumway turned to walk away and Gómez grabbed at him to get him to listen. He managed to grasp a loose thread on Shumway's collar and it unraveled about two feet before Shumway stopped and turned around. "What are you doing?"

Gómez looked at the thread in his hand. "I'm sorry, I just wanted you to reconsider."

"You idiot! Do you go into a bakery and pull the frosting off a cake? GIVE ME THAT NOW!"

He didn't know why, but Gómez handed the thread to Martinez. "Run!"

Martinez wound the thread around his hand and ran out the store and down the block. The thread wound off Shumway until his collar disappeared, then his shirt and then his pants. It continued, taking every stitch of the man's clothing until he was naked but it did not stop. As he shrieked, the thread continued unwinding, removing Shuman bit by bit until at last the end disappeared out the store and nothing was left of the tailor. The remaining men stared in disbelief.

"I guess the clothes really do make the man" Gómez observed. "Who's up for a diet, compadres?"

The End

A/N: Based on a short story, a play, and a direct-to-video movie by Ray Bradbury. Modern and yet surreal, the story focused on the six men who bought the suit. There must have been something more to the tailor I was thinking, and this story was a result.