{{useitem|item=Volartta's bellbottoms|text="These trousers have got me in the mood to kick-kick-kick, kick some booty!" <Familiar Name> says. "I have nothing but pity for the blackguard who attempts to start a row with me!" Your opponent hangs back, unsure whether <she> should attack|type=combat}}
{{useitem|item=Volartta's bellbottoms|text="These magnificent trousers remind me of my mis-spent youth, dancing in discotheques in a dozen different countries, doing a dozen different drugs, busting a hundred different moves," <Familiar Name> says, demonstrating some of his old dance moves.|type=combat}}
*''[[Voluminous Radio Pants]]:''
*''[[Voluminous Radio Pants]]:''
{{useitem|item=Voluminous Radio Pants|text=|type=combat}}
{{useitem|item=Voluminous Radio Pants|text=|type=combat}}
"Did I ever tell you of my travels to the distant tropic lands, searching for spices and cheap labor to make mixed drinks by my pool?" <Familiar> says. You kick back for a few minutes while he tells the story.
"These trousers may not carry the stench of the common man upon them, but they certainly do smell like something that's been sitting in a septic tank for years," <Familiar Name> says. "Do you not smell that, you blackguard?" He kicks your opponent with one fetid leg, for 1 (+1) (+1) (+1) (+20) (+1) (+1) damage.
"I shall not be subjected to this ignominy anymore!" <Familiar Name> fumes. "Forced to wear the pants of a common garden slug!" "Oh, no," you reply, "he was the Slug Lord. Royalty." "Ah, that's better then," <Familiar Name> says, while your opponent looks on, confused.
"What are these trousers made of?" sniffs <Familiar Name>. "Paper plates," you reply. "People eat off of paper?" he cries, aghast. "Don't tell me the porcelain mines have run dry! My stock portfolio will be ruined!" Your opponent observes this exchange with a puzzled expression.
Monster attack power reduced by x
Monster defense reduced by X
<Familiar Name> lights a 200-meat promissory note on fire, uses that to light one leg of the pants, and uses that to burn <him> for 1 (+1) (+24) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) damage.
"What are these little metal things you've fashioned these trousers from?" asks <Familiar Name>. "You've never seen a paperclip before?" you reply. "What do you use to hold multi-page documents together?" "Servants." Your opponent appears somewhat nonplussed.
Monster attack power reduced by X
Monster defense reduced by X
"I say, I think I understand how these 'paper-clip' things are meant to work, now," <Familiar Name> says. Then he untwists one of the paperclips and pokes <him> with it for 35 (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+11-21) (+1) damage.
"I say, I am unaccustomed to squelching my legs into a hideous writhing mass of tentacles," <Name> says, frowning haughtily. "It's really making me want to do the most frightful things to this creature you're fighting." It looks a little worried.
"If I am to wear this hideous creature as a garment," <Name> says, "I might as well make the most of it." The he leaps on it and strangles it with his suckers for 1 (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+11-21) (+1) damage.
<Familiar Name> slides over to <him> and penguin-slaps <him> for a frosty 1 (+1) (+1) (+42) (+1) (+1) (+1) damage.
"I feel like I'm a giant wearing a tuxedo meant for normal-sized man," <Familiar Name> says. "Speaking of which, did I tell you about my adventures in my dirigible far above the Kingdom, in the land of the giants?" You sit back and relax for the story, and feel refreshed when it's over.
<Familiar Name> dances a shivery little jig. "How on earth do those well-dressed little blighters keep warm with only this much to wear?" he complains.
<Familiar Name> dances a shivery little jig. "A tuxedo for one's nether regions is a capital idea, <Player>, but I could do with something a bit warmer, eh what?"
"For Lady Pancetta and the glory of House Bayonne, I slay thee!" <Familiar Name> shouts. "...Oh, excuse me. These greaves have rather run away with me, it seems. So to speak." Your opponent plainly has no idea how to react to this.
Monster attack power reduced by X
Monster defense reduced by X
"These lovely shinguards remind me of the ceremonial armor the Pork Elves wore to fancy-dress balls," <Familiar Name> says. "Allow me to demonstrate one of their courtly dances."
<Familiar Name> says, "I regret to inform you that your application to be a formidable foe has been rejected. Do try again once you're not so pathetic." <He> is too stunned by the news to attack this round.
<Familiar Name> says, "When I'm wearing these pants, I feel like I'm relaxing in a corporate jet on the way to a hostile takeover," and grins wistfully.
<Familiar Name> leaps into the air and stomps on <him> for 26 (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) damage. "This is the most fun I've had since father filled that swimming pool with hamsters and let me dive in!" he shouts.
<Familiar Name> says, "I say, these trousers make me want to smash bricks with my head! But I daresay that would hurt quite a bit. I'll have to use someone else's head, I suppose. You there! Want to make a quick five meat?" Your opponent backs away slowly.
"You know, old bean, if you're that dead set on alliteration, you could just as easily have called them 'transparent trousers,'" Panty says, tipping you a wink and a smile.
"I say," <Familiar Name> says, "I'm somewhat unaccustomed to having such a free range of motion in my legs. Why, I'll bet I could kick that blackguard right in <his> head!" He demonstrates, doing 62 (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) damage.
<Familiar Name> kicks off his shoes and starts dancing the twist. "I say, what fun! They never had 'sock hopping' back at the preparatory academy, you know."
"Everyone is always asking me if I'd like a little fire," <Familiar Name> complains, "so I've decided to turn the tables. How about a bit of flaming-hot hip-bump, you blackguard?" and he hits <him> for 1 (+1) (+41) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) damage.
"This isn't the first time I've had flaming hot pottery on my crotch," <Familiar Name> says, "not by any stretch of the imagination! Why, when I was among the crotch-pot-cooking pygmies of the Ebayan Basin, I . . ." You relax and take a little nap while he tells the story.
"Much like the creature on my family's coat of arms, the mighty snail, I shall slowly but surely gain victory over you, blackguard! And possibly leave a shiny trail in my wake!" <name> shouts, startling your opponent considerably.
"Tell me, have you ever seen the mating dance of the common garden snail? It's really something to observe," <name> says, and then tries to imitate it for you.
"Well, these trousers certainly leave little to the imagination. I do hope your imagination is insufficient to imagine that little bit that remains," <Name> says, winking and smiling.
"These trousers are so fancy they make me feel invincible!" <name> cries. "I am the matador and the bull, and the arena in which they fight! Make your move!" Your opponent shuffles nervously, not sure whether to step up or not.
"Tell me, <playername>, have you the proper ballroom dance training to dance the tango? No, I thought not. Very well, I shall demonstrate." He dances ferociously, clapping and stomping.
"These cargo short pants remind me of the heady days when I was a member of the secret society at my preparatory school!" Boss says, then whips out a paddle and smacks them for X damage.
"I do fondly remember the hazing rituals we put the pledges through at the preparatory academy," Boss says. You relax as he regales you with stories of booze, humiliation, and buggery.
"Trousers fashioned of compressed time? A capital idea!" <name> exclaims. "Once you've accounted for the conversion rate, they're nearly as good as a pair I once owned entirely made of money. Made going to the casino a bit of a scandal, though, eh what?" He laughs heartily and claps your opponent on the back, knocking the wind out of it.
<name> says, "I say, these pants have a most pleasant jingle to them, don't you think? It reminds me of the ancient metal discs folks used to use as currency." Your opponent looks perplexed at the notion of metal discs as money.
<name> says, "by the jingling of my pants, I feel quite inclined to dance!" and dances a little jig.
"Say, this reminds me of a rather amusing anecdote involving accidental nudity and a Crimbo pressie gone awry, back when I was a young lad at preparatory school," <name> says. You kick back and relax as he tells you the story.
"These trousers have got me in the mood to kick-kick-kick, kick some booty!" <Familiar Name> says. "I have nothing but pity for the blackguard who attempts to start a row with me!" Your opponent hangs back, unsure whether <she> should attack
"These magnificent trousers remind me of my mis-spent youth, dancing in discotheques in a dozen different countries, doing a dozen different drugs, busting a hundred different moves," <Familiar Name> says, demonstrating some of his old dance moves.
"These trousers are truly exceptional," <Familiar Name> says. "In fact, it could be said that I worship satin. Droll, eh?" Your opponent takes 11 (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) damage from that terrible pun.
"Now, this is more like it," <Familiar Name> says, appreciatively. "Provided, of course, it isn't after Labór Day. Oh, my. What day is it? WHAT DAY IS IT?" Your opponent is a little too frightened to attack this round.
"Let's see if I can remember the Krakroxian battle-cry we learned for cricket matches at the preparatory academy," <Familiar Name> says, then lets loose a high-pitched screeching yodel. <He> is too freaked out to attack this round.
"Ah, the ancient and majestic Wumpus," <Familiar Name> grins, examining his loincloth. "Such a bally shame they were hunted to extinction before I could get a crack at one, eh what?"
"I say, this kilt is jolly warm," Panty says, dancing a little jig. "Wish I'd had one on our hunting club's arctic expedition -- wouldn't have had to sleep in a ruddy bear carcass."
"In all my travels, I have learned one thing that is true in any context, in any culture," <Familiar Name> says, "and that is: 'yaks smell terrible.'" he holds out his leg for your opponent to sniff, and it takes 1 (+1) (+1) (+2) (+46) (+2) (+1) damage from the smell.
"Don't talk back!" <Familiar Name> shouts, startling your opponent so much that <it> forgets to attack this round.
"In my numerous travels, I did encounter a tribe of women who wore nothing but yakskin skirts," <Familiar Name> says. "It was quite the sight, especially when they did the traditional dance of their people." He demonstrates, and your mind boggles.
"What ho!" <Familiar Name>shouts exuberantly. "Slay this vile ruffian, <Player>, and we'll display its bones on my greaves as a warning to its miserable kin!" Your opponent seems rather shocked by this.
Monster attack power reduced by X
Monster defense reduced by X
"I'm afraid I have a bone to pick with you, old bean," <Familiar Name> says, and kicks <him> for 1 (+1) (+1) (+1) (+1) (+100) (+1) damage.
