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WOW: strip. A witch has landed Dean with an unusual curse.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, honestly.
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"Oh, I hate this," Dean gasped, hurriedly shrugging off his overshirt; "I HATE it!"
"Dean," Sam snapped; "put your damn shirt back on."
"No," Dean pulled off his T-shirt, flinging it into Sam's face; "I've gotta get outta these stupid clothes."
"But we're in the middle of friggin' Wal-Mart," Sam spluttered in panic.
"What kind of bitch curses a man with a phobia of clothes?" Dean gasped as his jeans and boxers simultaneously slithered to the ground.
Sam groaned and turned away. Of all the places to strip off, Dean had to be standing in the refrigerated goods aisle.
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end