As some of you may know, I was recently given the Three-Wolf-Moon
shirt as a gift. It came just at the right
time, too. I found myself living in a
gray, numb world, and it rattled my soul to its very depth. Want to hear something surprising? It’s not even the zombies, vampires, or
unicorns that have me down… it’s the humans!
People, the dull and selfish creatures that they are, just make me sick
sometimes. You would think if I came all
the way to your town, killed some zombies, kicked a demonic midget or two in the
face, that you would at least offer me some peanut butter pie. Why can’t
you just hook me up with some peanut butter pie?
IT’S FREAKIN’ DELICIOUS, YOU MOUTH-BREATHIN’ BUTTMUNCHERS!
Sorry, you caught me chasing a western wampus cat on an eastbound
trail (as some might say). Back to the
point: I found myself wandering down the
bitter path to pure cynicism. But then I
put on the shirt, if that’s what you want to call it. That’s really not what it is. Calling the Three-Wolf-Moon shirt just a
shirt is like saying a nuclear bomb is a cheese cracker… or calling a tornado a
crescent wrench. It’s in a totally
different category, my friend. It is
without a doubt the most powerful talisman I have ever been around. So many powers . . .
Anyway, so I put the shirt (not a shirt) on, and immediately was
overwhelmed with pure testosterone magic.
I’m not going to say that I started growing hair everywhere like a
werewolf, because that didn’t happen, but I was clean-shaven before I put it
on. See what happened for yourself.
If you stare at this picture too long, you'll be impregnated. I'm not paying child support.
Just a heads up.
Also, some of my chubbiness started forming its way into
muscles. My upper-back-titties turned
into hard rock. Boomshakalaka!
So, after getting the manbits-supercharge from the not-a-shirt, my
depression and cynical ideas drifted away with the wind. I was ready to hunt, brother, and so hunt I
did.
I first came across a small herd of zombies. Now like I’ve said before, I normally keep my
distance from zombies. It’s not that I’m
afraid that they’re going to kill me, or bite me, I’m more scared of the
disgusting rotten egg-smelling blood find its way into one of my orifices – Ick
– but something about having the Three-Wolf-Moon magic within me gave me a
bloodlust that only a machete-slaying can satisfy. As I charged the herd head-on, I yanked my
machete out of my Levi’s and pulled the blade back, ready to send the wrath of
TWM through that sucker’s head. But…
before my blade ever reached its neck the head went flying off of the zombie’s
body. I was frozen in bewilderment for a
second, but then I noticed one of the wolves glowing on my shirt, and my mind
started clicking everything together in rapid-fire. I had actually drawn the power off one of the
wolves.
Telekinesis, baby!
Without missing a beat, I used my mind to pick one of the other
zombies up and used it to smash another zombie.
Then something magical happened:
the zombies actually tried to run away.
Ha! I used my (wolf’s) power to rip
a tree out of the ground and crushed them with it.
He was really wearing a Three-Wolf-Moon shirt under his
karate space outfit the whole time. No surprise there.
After the annihilation of the zombies, I didn’t even waste time on
going back to my car, I just started running.
I made it all the way to Desoto Caverns in less than ten minutes. I figured, What the heck? I might as well
check for some of those nasty ol’ vamps.
Sure enough, I found a whole nest of them parked in there.
As I approached them, I noticed one of the other wolves glowing
and my heart started racing with the excitement of finding out what my new
power was. I didn’t even bother with
pulling my machete out. Screw that, I
says. I just stomped up to them and was
going to yell something witty and condescending, but instead a soul-piercing
howl escaped my mouth.
It. Was. Awesome.
The vampires were thrown off guard a little, but not much. They started creeping towards me with their
nasty grins and kind whispers of sweet nothings, and I kept on with my death
march. I started getting nervous – just ever
so slightly -- when I was about three
feet away and still had no idea what my power was. One of the vampires made its move in a flash,
and before I could stop him he had his fangs coming down on my forearm. The only problem (for him, that is) was when
his fangs clamped down, instead of piercing my skin, they broke off. Turned to dust, more like it. That’s when TWM revealed its second power to
me. My physique had transformed and my
skin was solid rock. The, now toothless,
vampire stared at me with ice-cold fear in his eyes. It didn’t take me long to realize what I
needed to do. I slammed my rock-hard
fist into his face and his head flew off of his body. Baboom!
You know the rest of the story already… I killed a bunch of vampires
with my bare fists.
After that, the night just turned into one steaming blur of wolfmoonitude.
I ripped the head off of an evil unicorn. It didn’t kill it, because those effers are
hard to kill, but it ran away like a little girl. It didn’t want none.
I had a staring contest with a demonic midget until the demon
exorcised itself (after defecating in its pants, I might add).
A cannibalistic clown checked under his bed for me. I was actually hiding in his closet. Sucks for him.
The only part of the night that didn’t involve killing or
butt-kicking was when I came across a pack of werewolves. I was getting ready to wolfmoonanize all of
them, when I caught one of their eyes.
Their alpha. He waved his hand to
show that he didn’t want none, either.
That’s when I noticed the third wolf glowing. It didn’t take me long to realize what the
third power was. I was carrying a branch
that I had used to beat a ghost with (that’s right, I was able to physically
beat a ghost with something. No easy
feat.) The branch had changed into a
huge stick of beef jerky. I had just been thinking about how awesome a
Slim Jim would be. I was able to change
stuff into other stuff. (Side note: Yes, the Slim Jim was delicious. Of course it was.)
Didn’t I tell you before that there are so many powers? You never believe me. One day you’ll learn.
Anyway, I had an idea.
These werewolves seemed pleasant enough, and I know how they enjoy some good tunes. I started picking up branches and
changing them into guitars, drums, the necessities for a total jam session. The werewolves smelled what I was stepping
in. We all started playing Bohemian
Rhapsody and then total magic came upon us.
The wolves on the shirt came to life and started howling the tune while
we were playing. The high parts, the low
parts, all the parts. The moon was
glowing as they sang and howled the beautiful melodies and harmonies.
After the small concert was over -- sometimes it’s the small ones
that are the best ones (That’s not what she said, by the way.) – I realized
something. The wolves looked
hungry. They looked like they were
trying to nurse from my left man-breast.
More like the *teat of awesomeness. Then I realized something else: I had become exactly what had given me
grief. I had used, used, used, and used
the Three-Wolf-Moon some more and had not given anything back. (*Compliments of Summer Rogers Patterson)
"It’s not what Three-Wolf-Moon can do for you, it’s what you
can do for Three-Wolf-Moon."
When I made it back to my house, I used my stuff-changing power to
turn a rock into – yep, you guessed it – a peanut butter pie. We sat in the yard and ate the pie as the morning sun started to peek over the horizon. It was delicious, and they loved it.
Okay, so now that you’ve heard the pro-side of the
not-a-shirt. Let me tell you the cons.
Remember way back at the beginning when I said that testosterone magic
takes over? Well, pheromones are
released into the air once you get moving, and before you know it you’re having
to beat women off with a stick. It’s
annoying when you’re trying to sneak up on a fight, and some skank is chasing
you telling you that she wants you to [bleep] the [bleep] out of her [bleep]
and throw some chicken wings on there with some [bleep] sauce and Ranch
dressing. That’s disgusting, right? Jeez, woman. I'm trying to kill some undead and you're wanting to rub your lady-bits all over me. Quit it.
Anyway, if you can get past the raging hordes of horny women, then
you definitely need to buy this shirt. (Have I made it clear that it’s not a
shirt? Not a shirt.)
