Strides

"Good choice, sir. Those are very special trousers," said the annoying tailor.
He was annoying to Dale for a number of reasons, but mostly because of the snooty way in which he spoke and the way he twirled his silly moustache like a silent movie bad guy.
Dale took the 'special' trousers into the changing rooms and drew the curtain behind him.
He slipped out of his jeans and pulled on the brown slacks that would signify his transition into old age.
He fastened the button and felt a strange sensation in his legs. He felt as if his limbs wished to dance.
"How do they fit?" sneered the tailor.
"Err, ok. They're a bit strange though."
Dale opened the curtain and half walked, half tapdanced out.
The tailor grinned. "I told you they were special!"
Dale seemed to be starting some kind of involuntary Riverdance, his legs twitching and kicking.
The tailor continued to grin, very pleased with himself. Dale just looked uncomfortable.
Without warning the trousers made Dale kick the tailor in the face.
He collapsed, grinning no more.