Curse of the 3 Wolf Moon T-Shirt
Get the Curse!
Mystical objects of great power are known to attain consciousness. Strange occurrences lead me to believe that my 3 wolf moon t-shirt became self-aware when I put it on for the first time. Even the gravest warnings could never have prepared me for the horror that followed.
I purchased the shirt on Amazon.com in late 2009 with high expectations. The commenter’s told tales of being stalked by Swedish supermodels, scaling Mount Everest while drunk on its powers, and blasting away evil crime lords. A blinding light of glory followed by ecstasy came when I read this comment in particular. Some of the wiser among them said that “with great power comes great responsibility”. I stopped reading right there because I wanted to receive powers, not some prissy sermon.
My parcel arrived unceremoniously. Actually, I was confused by the delivery because I had forgotten actually ordering anything. Cheap scotch whiskey and the internet don’t mix well my friends. The delivery man had a strange sparkle in his eye, like he knew what was in the box. Either that or my wonder woman underwear generated lust I’d rather not reflect on.
I now held what very well could have been Pandora’s box. Who knew it would be fashioned from cardboard and thrust forth from a feeble postman? Upon opening it, a black shirt emblazed with 3 howling wolfs, and a moon burned into my retina like misfired insect repellent. Quickly, I pulled the shirt over by body and looked at my obese frame proudly in the mirror. An unusual chill went down my spine, which felt like the soft touch of the galaxy’s hottest goddess.
As I intensely stared at the anime figurines prominently displayed in my mother’s basement, it was clear that a great time of change had come. No longer would elementary students throw pebbles at me, screaming “booger brains”. From this moment on I was a “super genius // no jive ++ crime solving (( slick dude )) leather wallet that says mofo ## brand new car smell @@ plus evergreen freshener hanging from rear view… $$-IMMORTAL BEING-$$”. The rules of grammar no longer applied to me! Neither did the rules of the universe!
With a poof of smoke, semi-transparent rainbow coloured unicorns floated downward at a forty-five degree angle. The legendary James Brown appeared to me, wearing a leisure suit weaved from gold thread.
“You did read those comments about the great responsibility that comes with the power, right?” James said in a deep, welcoming manner.
“Meh. Whatever dude,” I responded.
James didn’t look impressed. He immediately disappeared in more smoke, this time leaving behind the musty smell of The Apollo Theatre circa 1973.
Already my ego was spinning out of control. Even James Brown seemed like nothing more than a giant dog turd dressed in 16 carat gold when only 24 carat was good enough. Only minutes ago the man was my greatest inspiration. Now, he was nothing.
After a life of involuntary chastity “I soon came to know the
pleasures of women”, much like “Conan the Barbarian” did in the in the
1982 film. A small cage soon became my home away from home. That is
where I eat giant drumsticks and had private time with random,
attractive women collected by my guards. Where the guard came from is
immaterial. You must understand that my every wish was being projected
By this time things between James Brown and I had already become increasingly awkward. Still, I ordered him to appear for the fifteenth time with his all-star band. I just had to listen to “Sex Machine” while silver-skinned fairies fed me fruits collected from planets unknown to morals.
Get the Curse!
This time James didn’t show up, marking the first time any of my wishes were not granted. A small plastic figurine of James and his band mates stood at my feet. I was angered!
“Such disobedience will not go unpunished!” I fumed.
The silver-skin fairies tried to calm me but it was no use. The luster had worn off. What good was a world where I could command all life and creation? Everything was mine except for the allegiance of James Brown.
Suddenly I realized that all along, it was he that was my master. I was being used, but why?
A horrible feeling came over me as I vividly imagined three James Brown faces transforming into the heads of wolves. The horrible howl lingered so long that I began to roll on the floor in agony. Never again would I trust product reviews on Amazon.com!
Swiftly, I removed the 3 wolf moon t-shirt I had come to hate and tossed it aside. The smell suddenly became insufferable because I had worn it for months without washing.
The next day, I began to think about all the ugly girls that refused to go out with me in days past. Unexplainably, I now cherished that feeling of rejection. My eyes widened as I realized I wanted to be a loser again. All was settled. Soon I would make my way back to the basement to spend hours in front of a computer once again. Once more I would waste hours playing mediocre PC games like Starcraft II.
My normal, boring life has now been restored. However I can’t bring myself to part with the wolf shirt and it’s killing me inside. Let this serve as a warning. Be very careful of what you put in your shopping cart. A commenter said it best, “One of those three wolves isn’t a real wolf.”